


You're Still Picking Me Up

by loochskywalker



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, And a little town in Vermont, Angst, Brain Damage, Concussions, Domestic, Forced Outing, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Light ableism, M/M, Making Up, Memory Loss, Mental and Physical health issues, Post-Concussion Syndrome, Power Outage, Recovery, Retirement, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In, Your favs learn to navigate an argument, because they're adults, happy ending I promise, mild depictions of violence, soft soft soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-10 13:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17427179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loochskywalker/pseuds/loochskywalker
Summary: Mitch is 26 when he retires from the NHL. His brain a jumbled mess of pieces that won't fit together no matter how many doctors try to make them. He was supposed to be great. He was supposed to be a legend.Instead he goes to Vermont. Instead, he goes to see Matt Martin.2.6.19 - added a second chapter!





	1. Grafton

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back and in top form with putting men I love through utter hell just so they can take care of each other. Woo. Anyway this fic made me cry writing it?? Mostly because I fell in love with the dog and realized that I can't get a dog of my own for another few years at least.  
> [Also! I made a playlist on spotify for this fic](https://open.spotify.com/user/eberlayy/playlist/1IYHvd0VLmZqPAQXiBrTyV?si=bbho7KCvR16XM9tTscmFyA) if you want to check it out while you read!  
> A few things  
> \- Yes "Colton" refers to Colton Parayko, it's the only time he's mentioned and no I couldn't help myself.  
> \- There's a timeline in the end notes if you want to read those but spoiler alert. It just may help set up the story a little bit more because this fic does cover a lot of time.  
> \- I did base this off a real town in Vermont called Grafton and the Inn is named after the real life inn. but it is a fake place and I can't promise everyone in the real town of Grafton Vermont is as charming and lovely.  
> \- As usual I know it seems pretty angsty and it IS but it's also about recovery and finding yourself and getting better and so for that I hope it ends up as more of a happy story.  
> \- Mitch struggles with PCS the whole fic so if brain damage or it's symptoms can trigger you I'd just be aware that it's a very integral part of the story and may let up for a few sections but then it'll be back. 
> 
> I really hope you like it! This is a rare one I am very proud of.

The hit. The hit. _The hit_.

It’s been months and Mitch still feels sick as he knocks his phone off the bedside table. Almost punching it to get that gross, insistent vibrating as far away from him as possible. Of course then it’s vibrating on the floor and Mitch can’t even reach it to turn it off. So he just groans turning around in his bed, and burying himself further in the covers. Get as far away as possible to just try to avoid the sound entirely.

His eyes still feel heavy, his body still feels achy, there’s a scratching feeling at the back of his eyes. He knows that alarm is important he’s just not sure _why_. He’s just so tired. Which just makes it worse when he manages to drift off once again, feeling more like he’s passed out than actually getting any sort of meaningful rest.

It’s a soft, “hey,” that finally gets him moving.

“Wha…” he blinks his eyes open and looks up to see a worried face staring down at him. His heart rate spikes for a split second when he doesn’t recognize the man above him but then he settles.

It’s just Auston.

“You should get ready,” he says in that same soft voice, “They won’t care if you’re late but they’d like it if you showed up.”

“Yeah I was… planning on it,” Mitch says and looks around the room blearily. It’s his bedroom. In the building Auston and him both live in, have lived in since they were rookies.  Since they were both teenagers. Everything is familiar, he can relax.

“Okay,” Auston says but he still looks worried, “I’ll be out in the living room.”

When Auston leaves and closes the door quietly behind him Mitch pushes himself up in bed, his arms heavy and his joints creaking. He feels like he got a total of 10 minutes of sleep last night even though his clock says he got close to 15 hours. 15 interrupted, tossing and turning. Horrible hours reliving the same moment over and over again. But technically 15 hours asleep.

Mitch doesn’t want to go to this… _thing,_ whatever it is.He knows he has too, knows it’s important.. It’s a morale booster for the whole team, the fans, to see him out and about. Plus the later he is, the later Auston will be. And maybe he doesn’t care so much anymore but he’s always been a team player.

Getting dressed isn’t easy but he suffers through it. It’s just motions at this point. What he’s actually wearing doesn’t matter so much. They’ll just throw on a jersey over him anyway. He looks like death in the mirror, all sallow skin and sunken eyes. Maybe that’s just the darkness of his room, the blue light of dusk the only thing seeping into what his mom has started to call his “cave.”

“You good to go?” Auston asks when Mitch finally exits his room.

Mitch just nods, doesn’t know where his voice went. His throat feels too rough.

“Alright, the guys will be happy to see you,” Auston says as he opens the door and lets Mitch walk through first.

“Yeah miss them too,” Mitch mumbles as they both head towards the elevator, “hey what… what is this thing anyway?”

The look Auston shoots is worried but Mitch pretends he doesn’t notice it, tugging his toque down past his ears as the elevator doors slide open. It’s not like… he _knows_ they told him what it was, alright? he _knows_ it’s something with the team, he knows what’s going to happen there he just… doesn’t know _why_. He doesn’t know what the point is.

“Just a small thing at SickKids,” Auston says as they step into the car, “only a few kids, they promised.”

“Oh that’s… not necessary,” Mitch says and feels himself frown, “they don’t have to do that just for me.”

“Don’t worry we’ve been picking up the slack for you,” Auston says putting a friendly hand on his shoulder. The smile Mitch shoots him is supposed to be thankful and a little bit fond but it ends up feeling strained. He doesn’t think Auston misses the way it pulls awkwardly at his lips.

 

******

 

They get to the hospital at 6 and by 7:30 Mitch is standing off in a corner, lips pressed together in a thin line and resting against the wall, eyes closed. He can hear the sounds of his team all around him. There’s no music like there usually would be, any laughter is subdued, and the one time a kid let out a squeal of excitement they were immediately shushed.

No one’s having fun here. Especially not Mitch.

“Hey,” He jumps when someone touches his arm.

It’s John, who at least manages to not look at him so pitifully.

“How you feeling?” He asks.

Mitch wonders if he should acknowledge the elephant in the room and point out that almost every other teammate of theirs is currently pretending they’re not shooting looks towards them. He’s pretty sure they voted John to come talk to him or something.

“I’m fine,” he says.

“It’s okay to… you know... Not be.” John says, “Auston says you forgot about this thing tonight.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Mitch says, “I had just woken up my brain was a little foggy… and not because of that okay. It’s always been foggy when I first wake up.”

“Is that what the doctors are saying?” John asks, lowering his voice even more Mitch sighs.“

they’re still hopeful,” he says which is a lie and John can tell.

“It’s been months and you’re still having,” He waves towards Mitch’s everything before settling on a word, “Problems.”

“It’s not that bad,” Mitch insists, “If it was the playoffs I’d be in right now, you know I could be playing. They’re just being careful I guess,refusing to clear me until I pass these measures or whatever. But it’s BS.”

John looks more uncomfortable at every word out of Mitch’s mouth and really, he can’t win with any of them.

“Hey, don’t worry about pushing yourself so hard, Mitchy, take your time the team will still be here when you’re ready.”

“It sounds like you think I won’t be back this season.” Mitch says, side eyeing him.

“It was a bad hit,” John says, “you were…”

“I _know_ what happened,” Mitch says, trying to keep his voice down, but now Mo is full on staring at them, worried lines creasing his forehead. “I was _there_ John, but it’s only December. I’ll be back.”

“There are more important things,” John says.

“Easy for you to say,” Mitch mutters darkly, “hey wanna grab me some water.”

John looks like he still wants to fight it but he just lets his shoulders deflate and nods.

“Sure, bud.” and then mercifully, he leaves Mitch alone.

He didn’t come here to fight his teammates. He didn’t want to be cornered like this and now he has an anxious energy bubbling under his skin, specifically right in the centre of his chest. He wants to yell but it feels like something cracks in his skull and a zap of pain shoots up to his temples.

God he can’t do this. He can’t handle this. He just wants to be back in bed.

 

******

 

Mitch had been lying, just a little, when he told John that he knew what happened, that he was there. Physically? Yes, he was there, there’s video of it all over the internet. The sportsnet youtube went viral because of it. It’s already made it into ‘worst hits’ compilations. So without a doubt he was there for it, curled up on the ice, frozen and completely unconscious.

They say he got up with the help of John and Colton who lead him down the tunnel. Apparently he had been fighting to get back on the ice, “I’m fine, I’m fine, _I’m fine_.”

He also apparently couldn’t tell anyone what his name was.

The truth is Mitch doesn’t remember any of this. He doesn’t remember a second of that night. The last thing he remembers is a text he got from Matt Martin before his pregame nap.

“It’s the coolest little place Mitchy, I’m so happy here.”

It’s gone now, buried in countless texts asking if he’s okay, if Matt can call him, just well wishes. None of them Mitch has replied too. The only person he texts anymore is his mother and he’s sure Auston’s at least told Matt he’s not dead.

So it’s okay. It’s fine.

The hit from Max Domi was less fine though. He was suspended upwards of 10 games for it, Mitch ended up with a cracked vertebrae, and temporary amnesia that lasted weeks. If he’s being honest with himself, John suggesting he’ll be back within the next few years is probably optimistic.

Because the doctors don’t think he’ll ever be back.

“I can play fine,” Mitch promises.

“I can see, my wrists work, I can focus for at least 2 minutes at a time now,” he says it like a brag, like it’s something to be proud of.

But the Doctors just look him in the face and say “it’s not about whether or not you can play, it’s about whether or not the next hit will do more damage.”

They don’t say he’s lucky to have regained any cognition at all. But Mitch can read between the lines.

 

******

 

Mitch is 26 when he retires from the NHL. Hot, angry tears running down his face when he gets off the phone with his agent. Three full seasons since the hit from Domi and he’s still trapped in the same Toronto apartment he’s always lived in.

Dubas tells him they won’t make him formally retire, they’ll just keep him on LTIR, pay the remainder of his contract off so he doesn’t have to worry about anything, can just recover. But it feels hollow, it feels meaningless. What’s the point of being a Toronto Maple Leaf on paper when he can’t even put the jersey on?

“I want to play again, I know I can do it,” Mitch had begged with his doctors, “please, don’t… this can’t be all you can _do_.”

“None of your symptoms have been getting better. PCS is serious, there’s nothing to be ashamed of here. Everyone would much rather see you heal and get better than risk your life playing a game.”

“Well fuck everyone” Mitch told them, “fuck everyone. Fuck them and what they’d _rather_ see. I don’t give a fuck. Let me _play_. I don’t care about anyone or anything else. I just want to fucking play I just want…”

“You haven’t put skates on for three years,” His doctor interrupted him, “let’s focus on getting you back on the ice before we start thinking about playing hockey again.”

Mitch choked on his tears then and hasn’t stopped since.

He sits at his kitchen table, resting his elbows on his knees and letting out harsh, brutal breaths that don’t sound like sobs, sound like something a lot more painful. Which is just par for the course because _everything_ hurts. His eyes, his temples, his neck, his shoulders, god his _head_ . This isn’t _what he deserves_ . He’s worked so hard. His parents have worked so hard. His life has been leading up to _so much fucking more_.

This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. _This isn’t fair_.

Even Paul Kariya, who disappeared off the face of the earth until he got inducted into the Hall of Fame, got 16 years to play in the NHL. Even Sidney Crosby who lost most of his career to head injuries in his early 20s got to play again. But Mitch. Mitch Marner who spent so much of his life defending his ability to play in the NHL, proving that just because he was smaller didn’t mean he was incapable of playing hockey, takes one bad hit and is told he may not even be able to skate again.

He was too good for this. He was supposed to be great.

 

*****

 

“It’s okay, we’ll just… figure it out,” his dad says, “You’re still getting sponsorship offers. And Red Bull isn’t going to pull out now, that’d be bad PR. The NHL has some offers for you too, doing guest spots on TV when you’re ready.”

“ _When_ ,” Chris says from the corner of the room a little too aggressively.

“Oh, he could also go to school,” His mom jumps in as if Chris had never spoken in the first place. “You’re such a smart man, Mitch, There’s a lot you could still do, a lot you could still get involved in. There’s all those NHL players who have been doing concussion advocacy and…”

“He can’t even _read_ and you want him to go to school,” Chris is still trying from his corner. Still fighting to talk over his parents.

“We shouldn’t push him into school right _now_ , he still has a career to worry about.” His father says, “school can wait.”

“Hockey can wait.”

“Chris, please you’re not helping here,” Their father says and Chris just rolls his eyes at his father and leans back in his chair, biting at his cuticles. “If you’re going to be negative about this you don’t have to be here. This isn’t a family meeting. This is about Mitch.”

“Then let him fucking _talk_.” Chris says, “He’s just been sitting there while you two bicker back and forth about his future. Can you guys just… for one second, give him a break.”

They all look towards Mitch then who makes a point in not making eye contact with any of them, staring directly ahead at the clock on the wall. He’s kind of thankful for Chris but he’s not about to take anyone’s side. At least, not when his parents were batting ideas about stuff he wasn’t going to do between the two of them.  it kept their voices down.

“I think I need a vacation,” Mitch finally says, his voice hoarse and broken.

“That’s a great idea,” Chris says. “He’s under contract for another 4 years, he doesn’t need to do _anything_ about his future until then.”

“Where are you going to go?” his dad asks.

Mitch doesn’t know the name of the place, doesn’t even remember what country it’s in but he knows right then, exactly where he wants to go on vacation.

“A friend has a place,” he says.

 

******

 

The place is in Vermont and the only reason Mitch even knows that is because Matt gave him the address months ago as an offer for Mitch to come visit him. He probably should ask, or give some sort of warning. But if he’s being honest, the moment he has the idea Mitch is ready to run from Toronto as fast as he can. If he spends any more time locked up in his apartment he’s going to sink into his mattress and never come back.

So he throws everything he can reach into a set of suitcases, gets a cab to the airport and buys a ticket to Boston right there. He can tell they recognize him at the check in desk, and he knows people are staring at him, taking pictures of him, as he walks through security and into the lounge. At least he had the foresight to not go to Pearson. His thinking may be off, but he at least got this one right.

It’s hours before his plane boards, and another hour until they land in Boston. From Boston he takes a long distance taxi the 3 hour ride north into Vermont. He hesitates before that though, in front of a rental car desk and just stares at it.

“You shouldn’t be driving,” The doctors had said, “your cognitive abilities aren’t all there yet.”

It’s another one of those things that Mitch didn’t think he’d miss, another one of those things he hasn’t been able to do in 3 years. At first it made sense, he didn’t drive in Toronto anyway the roads were terrible, the people who drove on them were worse.it was always much easier to make Auston or Kap or anyone else drive, but when the Doctors told him he couldn’t, all of the sudden his fingers itched.

There was a moment, a few years ago, when Mitch couldn’t sleep late at night because of the hit still on replay in his head. He went down into the garage of his building, walked into the eerie reverberating silence, bare feet and all right up to his car, the one he hadn’t touched in months. He ran his thumb along the roof to see if he could collect any dust, before opening the door and sliding into the driver's seat.

He wanted so badly in that moment to just start his car and drive, anywhere, even if it was just down the street and back. But at the time, a little taste of freedom wasn’t worth risking hockey. Mitch never would have admitted it, but he didn’t think he could drive either. His eyes still blurred out every few minutes, he was still hit with waves of vertigo and had to sit down, still surprised by bouts of nausea.

But now, standing in the airport, with hockey no longer on the horizon, Mitch has to admit that he hasn’t gotten any better since then. The drive to Matt’s place is too far to risk.

He blows the money on a cab not because he hates driving but because he _can’t_ drive, and not getting the decision is worse than the awkward conversation he has to make all the way to nowhere Vermont.

“You sure this is where you want to be?” The cabbie asks as he parks in front of a long driveway that’s just two strips of dirt through overgrown grass. The house in the back sits just on top of a small hill, the sun hitting it directly and making the white of the house cleaner, warmer in someway.Mitch just nods,

“Yeah, thank you,” Mitch makes sure he gives the driver a huge tip.

He’s assured this is Matt’s place when he recognizes the car parked under a tree just off to the side, like maybe it hasn’t been used in a while. In its place is a truck sitting just at the end of the driveway next to a side door. Matt’s nice city car probably doesn’t do him a lot of good here, in nowhere Vermont, where he owns a small inn.

He drags his two suitcases up the driveway and almost expects Matt to be able to hear him struggle from inside the house and come outside but by the time he has them both outside the front door, the house is still peaceful and still. The whole town is peaceful and still. Mitch can’t hear anything besides soft sounds from birds, the wind in the tree, and a faint trickle of water nearby.

It almost feels fake.

Mitch knocks on the door. Not too hard but still it rattles the door in it’s frame and it makes Mitch wonders if it can be heard throughout the whole town. The house must be old or the walls were just built thin because he hears excited feet rushing down the stairs and a series of barks.

“I’m coming, i’m coming,” comes through the walls so clearly that Mitch can’t help but smile to himself, a voice he could pin anywhere.

“Who’s that?” he hears in that same voice, now pitched up like he’s talking to a baby or, more likely, a dog. When Matt swings the door open Mitch is immediately overwhelmed with said dog that all but leaps from the house and at Mitch’s legs, wiggling happily as he sniffs at Mitch's shoes.

“Oh!” Mitch says, surprised but not upset by this turn of events. It’s a big dog he doesn’t recognize although he remembers Matt saying something about getting another about a year ago.

“Wait, Ashe, come on, off,” Matt is standing in the doorway looking at Mitch with wide surprise eyes, “What… what are you doing here?”

Ashe’s version of off seems to just be licking at Mitch’s hands as he sits happily next to him. But Mitch isn’t complaining.

“Uh…” Mitch trails off and them puts his hands up in front of him, “Surprise?”

Mitch wiggles his fingers.Matt looks down at his dog and then up at Mitch a few times before a small smile creeps across his lips.

“Alright,” He says finally, “Come on in then,” and steps aside.

 

*******

 

Matt’s home is so unlike Mitch’s apartment back in Toronto he feels like he stepped into a fairytale cottage or something. The kitchen itself has big windows that look out into a long back yard with a small shed in the back. He even has pots hanging from the ceiling, and a little statue of a chicken on the window sill that Mitch picks up.

“You like it?” Matt asks from behind Mitch.Mitch puts it back down and turns to him, and nods.

“not what i’d expect, but it’s cute.” he says.

Matt grins at him and wipes his hands on a dish towel hanging from the front of the oven, “this woman who runs the little diner in town wanted me to have it. Just gave it to me. Said this house has been empty for so long I should have something in it to keep me company, but that’s also why I got Ashe.” The excitable Ashe is now trying to get Matt to pet his head by leaning heavily into his leg. Mitch doesn’t immediately recognize the breed, like a german shepherd but less hair, thinner.

“What kind of dog is he?” Mitch asks.

“Belgian Malinois” Matt says and pets at Ashe’s ears which makes the dog’s tongue loll out of his mouth, “they told me he’d be a good guard dog but as you could see when you met him, his reaction to strangers is mostly just that he wants to be friends.”

Mitch smiles, “sounds like someone I know.”

“I guess I just attract big scary dogs that are really just dorks,” Matt says and smiles back, still petting at Ashe’s ears before nodding towards the luggage that’s sitting in the corner of the room, “You staying for a while?”

“I’m gonna be honest I haven’t thought through any of this I kind of just got on a plane and caught a taxi here,” he says, shrugging, “I’m not even sure what I packed.”

“Well you can stay as long as you want,” Matt tells him, “seriously. It’s great here… quiet, and the people are friendly.”

“It’s very different from Toronto,” Mitch says, “and New York.”

“That’s kind of the point though right?” Matt asks and smiles, “maybe one day I’ll go back but no one comes looking for you in Vermont. Well…” he trails off, “besides annoying little rookies.”

Mitch snorts and rolls his eyes, “You were begging me to come visit you,” He says.

“I know,” Matt agrees easily, “I think it could be good for you, like it was for me.”

Mitch bites at the inside of his lip and stares down at the floor. He’s not sure if you could compare their situations, both tragic in their own ways, but he’s also willing to trust Matt with this. If anyone understands trying to put everything back together again…

“I might not be around that long,” Mitch says, like for some reason he feels the need to argue, “I have medication and stuff that I might need refilled or like… doctor’s appointments. And my parents said something about the NHL offering a job or…”

“You want to work for the NHL?” Matt asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Mitch says, “but I’ll need to start thinking about that kind of stuff now, huh? Like at some point the Leafs won’t be paying my salary anymore.”

“Be smart about it,” Matt says, “That money could last you a very long time.”

“Well maybe that’s why I’m couchsurfing,” Mitch says.

“I think you need more than one friend for that,”

 

******

 

Matt doesn’t make him talk about anything for a while when he first gets there. He shows Mitch the second room in the house and then takes him out in his truck, driving around the town and showing everything off. Almost everything is huge plots of land with old farmhouses and white picket fences. Matt points out a museum that looks like every other house they’ve passed just with a driveway that was closer to a parking lot than anything else Mitch had seen in that town so far.

They pass a big field with long grass that looks so soft Mitch almost asks Matt to pull over. Instead he just rests his arm along the open window and rests his head there, closing his eyes and nodding along to what Matt’s saying.

“And the grand finale” Matt says and the car slows down before Mitch feels Matt take a sharp turn into what must be a parking spot because he stops the car almost immediately after that.

Mitch blinks his eyes open and sees a brown building in front of them.

“Come on,” Matt says and climbs out of the car.

Mitch follows suit trying to ignore the way his muscles want to cramp up on him and steps out of the truck. He doesn’t walk as fast as Matt does but Matt doesn’t point it out, just slows down his own pace so Mitch can follow him up a set of stone steps that lead to a small walkway around the brown building to a three story white building right behind it.

It has a small sign hanging from a second story balcony with the words “The Historic Grafton Inn” painted on the side.

Mitch stops as Matt steps up onto what must be the patio and looks around. They must be in some sort of town centre. The inn sits right at the corner of an intersection and backs up to the only actual parking lot Mitch has seen in the whole place, where Matt had parked. But across the street from this is a small brick building with a sign announcing it’s town hall, and just down the street there seems to be a diner of some sort that is causing the whole street to smell like maple sausage.

“It’s cute huh?” Mitch jumps when Matt’s voice come from right next to him, “Whoa,” Matt’s hand reaches out and touches Mitch’s elbow gently, “You okay?”

“Yeah you just surprised me,” Mitch says, lowering the hand he had pressed over his heart and gesturing to the inn behind them, “it is cute, this is your place?”

“Yeah,” Matt smiles, “well, Hazel runs it but I pay her to run it. It was her parents place and she grew up here, when she came back she wanted to buy it back from the people who owned it but she couldn’t afford it and I decided to… help her out. You know I was trying to find a place to run away to anyway and there aren’t even 1000 people who live here. The place keeps me busy and she keeps it running.”

“You’re such a great guy Matt,” Mitch says, fake swooning, “such a hero.”

“Well you know,” matt grins, “That’s my job.”

he flexes just a little and Mitch laughs, rolling his eyes pushing Matt towards the building.

This building is a lot older than Matt’s house, Mitch can tell that almost immediately with the way the floor creaks under their feet. It’s also a lot more cluttered but in such a charming and purposeful way that Mitch gets why even in a town of less than 1000, people would still want to stay here.

There’s an older couple sitting in the corner where there’s two couches looking out to a large window. Matt greets them like old friends and the old woman touches his arm and says something to him about strawberries.

“Of course,” Matt says, “I’ll stop by later, yeah?”

“Just don’t need you going hungry up in that little house of yours,” She tuts, “No one to watch over you,”

“I got Ashe,” Matt tells her, “He makes a mean chicken dinner when he wants.”

That makes both the older man and woman laugh and Matt just waves at them politely before putting a hand on Mitch’s lower back and leading him towards the other side of the room, to a front desk with a little bell on it.They stand there for a few seconds, Mitch looking up and down the desk and noticing little things like the knick knacks scattered along the desk, or the christmas lights stapled to the back wall, before Matt rings the bell, tapping it repeatedly.

“Shit,” Mitch hears from an archway to the right of them, muffled and yet there’s no mistaking what she said.

A girl pushes her way through the archway, hair in a messy bun and looking disheveled.

“The washing machine is broke _again_ , Matt you need to buy a new one before I just start dropping all the linens off at your house,” she says as she approaches the front desk, “ _and_ , Mrs. Lambton wants me to remind you that you did promise to build that bookshelf for the kindergarten classroom or whatever the fuck.”

“There are patrons here,” Matt says, voice calm and level.

“They can’t hear me,” She waves them off, then she realizes Mitch is there, “oh who’s your friend,”

“This is Mitch Marner, he played hockey with me.He’s here visiting for a bit” She gives him a knowing look and Matt just shakes his head, “Mitch, this is Hazel, I pay her to complain about laundry to me, apparently.”

“You pay me to keep your life in order,” She says, “You’re welcome, by the fucking way.”

“She spent 8 years in Boston, can you tell?” Matt asks.

Mitch smiles fondly between the two of them.

“Sounds good to me,” Mitch says, “what’s the point of working for you if there are rules?”

“Yeah, he’s such a pushover,” Hazel says, “Mr. Grumpy Fists over here always acting like a hermit who doesn’t need anyone but he bought me a new car when all I needed was an oil change.”

“You were lucky all you needed was an oil change,” Matt says, “and out here who knows, you could break down 5 hours from anything and then I don’t know, fall into a ditch and decide you were just going to stay there until you died or something.”

“It’s okay dad,” Hazel says and reaches towards him, “I know you love me.”

“maybe I just need to incentivize you to stay,” Matt says, shaking his head

“I thought I just complained about laundry to you,” She smirks, then a beat later says, “is he checking in?”

“No, I’m just showing him around,” Matt says, “he’s from Toronto, he only knows big cities thought I’d get him used to country living.”

She snorted, “get out while you still can,” She says to Mitch.

“It’s nice,” Mitch says, “it really is, I never really thought you’d run a sort of bed and breakfast but it’s actually very you.”

“Oh,” Hazel says, “Matt has nothing to do with this he’s just the wealthy bachelor that rolled into town one day.”

“You’re welcome,” Matt says.

 

******

 

Matt was 30 when he retired and at the time it had enraged them all. After years hearing how hockey was for everyone, how if you can play “you can play,” or whatever, Matt still had to retire. He made it clear to the media, over and over, that this was a decision he made and no one was asking him to do this. But anyone with any critical thinking skills knew what happened.

The first gay player out in the NHL was supposed to be a bright young star, with the world ahead of him. To make it in professional sports and be gay you had to be perfect, you had to be untouchable and Matt wasn’t.

It was just better, they said, for Matt, the league, everyone if he just retired.

Mitch still remembers the way Auston chucked a full water bottle in the trainer's room and the way he shouted that it was bullshit, it was such bullshit. They couldn’t make Matt retire just because he was a 4th liner, just because he was an enforcer, just because some irrelevant guy posted a video on twitter.

But Matt wasn’t any different at 30 than he was at 28 and on the Leafs. He was still guiding, still gentle with them and explained that, it was just better for everyone.

It wasn’t just the league saving their ass, it was Matt putting distance between himself and a world that made him pretend to be something he wasn’t. Yeah retirement was going to suck, but the NHL was offering him a pension and Matt could go into the world and be himself.

“Pension,” Auston snorted and rolled his eyes, “it’s not a fucking pension, it’s a check that says, ‘thanks for staying away’” he said, “not like it was much of a secret anyway. We all knew. But now that the fans have a hold of it, it’s all of the sudden a problem? He could sue for this. He _should_ sue for this.”

“He took the money, Aus,” Mo said, “He agreed to it. He’s said over and over again that this was his decision. He can’t sue for this. It’s not fair but… it was his decision.”

“‘We’ll pay you more to never play for us than you’ll ever make on a team’ is not much of a decision,” Auston said, still angry, still with his arms crossed in front of him.

“It’s not,” Mo said, “but he didn’t have to take it.”

And that was 4 years ago but as they sit on Matt’s porch, Ashe at Matt’s feet, staring out at the river just across the street Mitch can’t tell anything bad happened to Matt at all. He almost believes, as they listen to the peeper frogs just past the tree line, that this was what Matt had planned to happen all along.

But Mitch isn’t stupid. Matt’s here, alone, with Ashe and Hazel sure, but life didn't deal either of them the cards they deserved.

 

*******

 

The diner in town is really just another house like all the rest. The table Matt and Mitch sit at is in something like a living room, near a fireplace and not air conditioned. It’s hot but the window near them is thrown open and the breeze is nice, at least enough that Mitch can ignore the sweat beading along his forehead.

“Oh you have to try the sausage here, Beth makes the best food around. It’s almost not even worth ever making food myself.”

“I smelled it yesterday,” Mitch says, “out on the street, it seems amazing.”

“It is, trust me,” Matt says, “and the beer she has here isn’t bad either.”

“I’m not supposed to drink,” Mitch says, which is the first time either of them acknowledged his head issues and so he looks up slowly from the menu and sees Matt’s frowning down at his menu too, avoiding looking up. “But there’s raspberry lemonade and I can never say no to that.”

“Oh so sugar’s fine?” Mitch rolls his eyes at Matt’s taunting.

“I’d die without sugar Marty, it’s the most important part of the food pyramid,”

That makes Matt laugh just as a waiter approaches them and asks for their oder.

Matt orders for both of them because, as he tells the waiter and Mitch, that he can’t risk Mitch missing out on the best things. Mitch rolls his eyes but doesn’t fight it, just hands his menu over to the waiter who addresses Matt by name.

“You know everyone in this town huh?” he asks.

“Well not everyone,” Matt shrugs, “but it’s a small community, we all work together, it’s hard not to get to know them. Besides everyone needs a big strong man’s help every now and then,” He flexes again and Mitch makes a big show of rolling his eyes. “Watch out, they might pop out if you do that anymore while you’re here.”

“If you weren’t being a douche I wouldn’t have to roll my eyes at you,” Mitch says, “Maybe you should be thinking about my eyes before you start,” he waves towards Matt, “being you.”

Matt smiles at him and leans back in his chair, “Who sought out who here?” he asks.

“If Pat ended up in the middle of nowhere I would have just gone to him.”

“A house with 20 kids probably not what you were looking for though, huh?” Matt asks.

“Hey now,” Mitch says, “I love the Marleau's.”

“You love everyone, Mitchy,” Matt smiles, “it’s okay I feel the perfect mixture of flattered and humbled.”

“Maybe that’s why I came here in the first place, keep you humble.”

“Oh I see, you think Hazel and everyone else here doesn’t do a good enough job of that on their own?” Matt asks.

“If they’re letting you think you’re the big strong man they’ve all been waiting for then they’re not doing a good enough job.” Mitch says.

“Well,” Matt says, “you can help me with that bookcase thing for the school.”

Mitch cocks an eyebrow.

“If you’re going to be here, might as well put you to work.”

 

******

 

They really should have sat down and talked about this, but Mitch was avoiding the topic at all costs and Matt didn’t seem super anxious about having it either. It’s not his fault though, there’s no way he could have known to be worried enough to ask.

Mitch’s phone vibrates by his head and wakes him up. A call from his mother. Which he ignores but immediately texts her, “can’t talk right now. I’m ok.” and then gets out of bed.

But that’s the problem because he doesn’t expect the way the floor creaks beneath his feet, the way everything is so much more cramped. The house is quiet even though there’s a window open. He can’t remember the last time he was anywhere with a window open and it was still silent.

It’s fine though, he’s got this. Auston would just be unnecessarily worried if he realized Mitch wasn’t quite sure where he was.

It’ll come back to him, it always does.

He knows, for instance, that he’s somewhere safe, that he’s somewhere he’s _supposed_ to be. He knows that. He’ just not sure… where or why.

Mitch gets out of bed and looks around the room he’s in. He recognizes his clothes in a suitcase. SO he’s on vacation, he could have guessed that. Some sort of AirBnB in the country or something like that. He changes slowly, hoping his memory will come back to him if he takes his time but nothing happens, and he also doesn’t hear anyone in the house still.

He grabs his phone from the bedside table and checks his texts. His mom asking him where he was is the most recent one. Any texts from Auston or Brownie or Mo have been unanswered in over a week and don’t seem relevant.

“I’m with friends,” Mitch had told his mother, which was pretty much something he could have already gathered.

He stuffs his phone in his shorts pocket and pushes the door open. Despite not knowing where he is, he seems to know the direction to the stairs, down them and into the kitchen. Right as he steps on the tiled floor he has a sudden thought, _dog_ It’s loud and sudden in his brain and almost makes him keel over. But he holds tight to the railing and all of the sudden he’s looking down and there’s a dog right there, sitting by the foot of the stairs and looking at him expectantly.

“Hey, boy,” Mitch says and reaches out to pet it.

The dog is a little scary looking, a little intimidating but when Mitch reaches for it, it immediately lights up and licks at his hand, leaning it’s full body into Mitch’s legs when he steps completely off the stairs. So it’s a good dog, a friendly dog, a dog that knows him.

“Where’s your owner huh?” Mitch asks and kneels down reaching for the collar as the dog licks at his face and sniffs at his nose. He manages to locate the tags and look at it.

So he has an address but that’s still about it. No last name on the tags or anything

Something in Mitch is still telling him not to be so worried so he’s just… not worried. He stands up again and pets the dog on the head before walking towards the front door and stepping outside, making sure to close the door before the dog, Ashe, can follow him outside.

There’s a car in the driveway but his brain tells him it’s the _wrong_ car and that whoever owns this house isn’t here right now. So Mitch walks, and that’s how Matt finds him.

“Mitchy,” Mitch turns his head and sees Matt walking towards him and preses a hand to his forehead. God everything hurts so bad.

He’s been wandering around for only about 30 minutes but Matt seems really worried.

“Why are you here?” Mitch asks blearily as Matt grabs him by the arms gently, “Are you...  I’m here with you?”

“Fuck,” Matt says quietly and pushes Mitch’s hair back off his forehead, “yeah you are bud, let’s get you back home.”

“Sorry,” Mitch says, “It was nice out.”

“It’s fine,” Matt says, “just, make sure to text me or call me before you leave again. You could get lost out here.”

 

******

 

“I didn’t realize it was this bad,” Matt says later that night after Mitch woke up from a nap, if you can call 5 hours a nap.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch says, “it must have been… the unfamiliar surroundings. My memory is worse right when I wake up and usually I just stay in bed until it comes back and it’s not like. Completely gone, I know stuff like I know the important stuff but it’s..episodic memory I think that’s what they said. My episodic memory gets fucked up and so like... When I wake up in my apartment I know I’m supposed to be there, and I know that it’s probably _my_ apartment but I don’t remember how I got there you know. But here it’s a little different and I just wasn’t sure what was going on.”

“Jesus christ,” Matt put his face in his hands, “I can’t just have you wandering off like that. “you scared the fuck out of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no it’s fine it’s not your fault. I just wish I had _known._ ”

“I should have told you,” Mitch says “I just… haven’t really been anywhere besides my apartment the past few years so I guess I didn’t expect this to happen.”

“I’m going to have to microchip you, like Ashe,” Matt says and Mitch can’t help but smile even through the tension in his chest. “Have you… had problems in the morning before or is this the first time since you’ve been here?”

“A little, nothing like that though,” Mitch says, “I don’t know how to tell when it’s going to be really bad and when it isn’t.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Matt says, “we’ll figure this out, Mitch.”

Figuring this out means that Matt puts up signs. It’s a little overboard but the one on the front door is probably necessary. It just says “call Matt,” on it  because Mitch remembers people and he remembers Matt.

Matt also makes sure to text him, reminding him of where he is so when Mitch goes to check his phone again he’ll be able to see it there. Which is nice but again, overboard. Especially paired with the sign on his bedroom door that says he’s at Matt’s place, and the sign on the wall by the stairs that lists the address for the house and the inn in case Mitch needs to find Matt.

It’s ridiculous but Matt is letting Mitch stay and the last thing he wants to do is complain.

 

******

 

He has to call his mom before he’s been at Matt’s for two weeks because if she doesn't hear his voice she’s going to report him missing or something.

“I’m fine,” he says to her, “I’m with Matt right now, at his place in Vermont. It’s nice here, quiet and everything. It’s what I needed. Chris was right, taking a break is going to be good for me. I’ll figure everything else out while I’m here.”

“You can’t just, disappear on us Mitch” His mom says, “I’m glad you’re doing good there but what about your medications and your doctors visits and your head.”

“My prescriptions are fine,” Mitch says, “and I have all my doctors numbers, if I need more medication I’ll give them a call. I’m not that far from Toronto, if I need to come back home I’ll be able to.”

“I just… I don’t like it Mitch. You’re sick.”

“And I’ve been sick for years,” Mitch says, “being home obviously isn’t doing me any good. I just need a change of scenery for a while.”

“How longs a while?”

“I don’t know.”

 

*****

 

Despite Matt saying he pays Hazel to handle everything with the Inn, he’s pretty much busy all the time. Which is fine with Mitch because Matt makes sure he’s not totally alone either. He has Mitch help him out with some things, makes sure to have all his meals with Mitch, and takes him on adventures sometimes, just the two of them. But there are still times when Matt has to go meet with someone in town, or run an errand and Mitch can’t go along. Usually because he’s still sleeping and Matt refuses to wake him up.

“You need your sleep, Mitchy,” matt says.

“No one needs as much sleep as I’m getting,” but Matt doesn’t budge.

It’s fine though, it just means when he wakes up at 11, he can just roll out of bed and decide to take Ashe on a walk.

He texts Matt first to let him know and promises he knows who he is and where he is. He grabs Ashe’s leash where it hangs on the wall by the side door and just the sound of it makes Ashe come barreling from the living room and jumping at the door.

“Hey, hey,relax,” He says and hooks the leash onto his collar. But Ashe probably hasn’t relaxed once in his life and the moment Mitch opens the door he’s pulling hard to start walking.

Matt usually walks Ashe off the leash but Mitch doesn’t trust himself just yet. God knows with his luck he’d end up killing his friends dog the first time he decides he can walk Ashe without a leash. So it’s just better to keep it on.

Ashe doesn’t seem to really mind either. He sticks close, leash or not, sniffing at the ground as they walk down the road. Sometimes he sees something that he wants to chase and he’ll perk his ears up, run after it a bit and then turn back when he realizes Mitch isn’t running after him.

“Sorry  buddy,” Mitch says when Ashe walks back to him, “don’t have my running legs back just yet.”

Ashe nuzzles him in the hand and happily continues to trot at his side.

“He loves you,” Matt says later that night when Ashe all but body checks Mitch so that he’s laying on the ground and Ashe can collapse on top of him, laying across his back.

“Yeah, I feel blessed,” Mitch says with a cough as Ashe’s full body weight rests on his back. “How old is he anyway?”

“About 2” Matt says, “they’re working dogs you know, that’s like, all they do. They’re usually police dogs or army dogs or whatever. But he ended up in a shelter because he wasn’t like that. I mean, he still likes to work. Just he’s not breed typical I guess. He’s not as good at the training and the tracking as they want dogs like that to be. So one of the people I used to work with when I was with the islanders, doing that service dog training stuff, called me up and said they had a dog that needed a home that I’d love. He was just a puppy then but he’s still kind of a puppy now.”

“So what? People knew he wasn’t a good dog even though he was just a puppy?”

“He’s a great dog,” Matt says.

“No, I know, I mean like, what they wanted him to be I guess.”

“Yeah,” Matt shrugs, “they’re scary dogs a lot of the time, like german shepherds you know? So usually the people that want them want a scary dog and Ashe just… isn’t. Never really had a protective instinct in his body,”

“He doesn’t need one,” Mitch says, moving under the dog so he’s laying on his back and Ashe is spread out on his chest instead, “he’s perfect,” he adds and grabs Ashe by the face, rubbing at his cheeks and making a kissy face towards him. Ashe just licks at his nose and pants happily, tail going a mile a minute behind him

“all my dogs fall in love with you,” Matt laughs

“I’m amazing,” Mitch says, “I might stay here just for him.”

“Hmm,” Matt hums, “well suit yourself. Hazel says I can’t bring him in the inn because he scares some of the people there. Which is fair. But you being here just means someone’s around to keep him company when I have to go get work done.”

“Yeah we love hanging out,” Mitch says, “you’re whatever, I guess you pay the bills so you can stay.”

Matt snorts.

“But it’s mostly just me and this guy,” Mitch finishes.

Matt doesn’t reply but when Mitch tilts his head back to look at him Matt’s just smiling down at both of them, a horribly fond look on his face that Mitch would taunt him for if he was an asshole. He’s not though so he just goes back to rubbing Ashe’s face and cooing at him. Matt can deal with whatever was going on with his face on his own.

 

******

 

Beth runs the diner and Mitch has met her a few times but when he walks into the diner with Ashe at his hip she hands him his coffee almost immediately. It’s like he blinks and there’s a coffee cup in his hand.

“Oh, thanks,” he says.

“Did you want something else?” She asks as she goes to stand behind the cash register.

“No, this is perfect,” he says, “Thanks, how much do I owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it I’ll just bill Matt later for it,” She says and winks, “it’s only a dollar I can handle the cost for a day.”

“I have a dollar,” he says but when he pulls the coin from his pocket he realizes two things. One, that it’s a coin and two, that it’s a Canadian dollar and probably not worth anything. “Yeah, okay, bill Matt for it.”

“I’m sure he won’t even notice,” She laughs.

He smiles, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Anything for you. You know,” she pauses, “Matt’s been around for so long now, maybe not as long as the rest of us but long enough. He’s been so lonely the whole time, pretends getting Ashe a year ago was enough to keep him company but we all know. Matt’s a good man, he helps all of us out so much. It’s time he had someone.”

Mitch blushes as her words settle and he stutters out, “uh, yeah, I mean Matt’s great. I don’t mind being around and helping him out.” he says. She just smiles at him and nods.

“oh!” she says and holds up a finger, “one second.” She turns then and walks through the door that Mitch knows leads to the kitchen by now.

He breathes slowly and tries to settle his racing heart. Not that… Not that someone thinking he’s dating Matt is necessarily a bad thing it’s just… awkward. He doesn’t know how to tell this lovely old lady that he’s not actually a boy Matt imported from Canada to keep him company or like.. A boyfriend or something. They’re just friends, but he doesn’t want to embarrass anyone.

Beth comes back and hands a small paper bag with a pastry in it to him.

“That’s for Hazel,” She says, “she picked up some laundry for us the other week and I owe her one.”

“Of course,” Mitch says, “I’ll make sure it gets to her,” he says and takes a sip of the coffee, “amazing as always, thanks Beth.”

“You’re welcome hon.”

Mitch smiles at her and raises his coffee to her in salute as Ashe tugs him towards the door and out.

Matt’s not allowed to bring Ashe to the Inn but there’s a bench on the front lawn that Mitch ties his leash around and kisses his forehead before walking into the Inn with the pastry and his coffee.

“Hey, Mitch,” Hazel says from the front desk, “ooo! Looks like break time,”

“Yep,” Mitch says and holds up the bag for her, “where’s Matt?”

“In the laundry room,” She says, “still convinced he can save that thing instead of just buying a new one. He thinks because he kicked it and it started working last time that he can just, beat the crap out of it and it’ll start running again. What’s it with rich people being so stingy?”

Mitch shrugs, “I think that’s just him,” He says, “I’ll go get him.”

“Right on,” Hazel says and reaches under the front desk, putting a “back in 10 minutes” sign on top of it before she snags the bag from Mitch’s hand and waltzes outside.

Mitch walks into the laundry room which is just behind the front desk and sees Matt right there, laying on the ground staring at the washing machine like it’s about to come alive and tell him something.

“Making progress?” Mitch asks.

“I wish,” Matt huffs, “Whatever, I’ll just have to buy another one I guess.” He says as he sits back on his knees, peering up at Mitch, “You wanna go to Home Depot with me?” “Sure,” Mitch says, “but it’s break time now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt says and stands up wiping his brow with the back of his arm, “What would I do without you interrupting my work?”

“It’s good for you,” Mitch tells him, stepping aside so Matt can walk by him.

He follows Matt into the lobby of the inn where Matt pulls his hoodie up and off. Which is kind of unnecessary because it’s not like it’s cool inside but it is warmer _outside_. So it makes sort of sense. Mitch just thinks he wears the hoodie around because it has the Inn’s logo on it and that’s his version of advertising or something.

Still it pulls his shirt up a little and Mitch almost drops his coffee. Which is just annoying, especially with the interaction he just had.

“They think I’m your sugar baby,” Mitch says sitting on the grass next to Ashe as Matt sits next to Hazel on the bench, eating half of the pastry she had even though Mitch had specifically said it was just for her.

“They?” Matt asks.

“Beth,” Mitch says, “But I get the feeling she was talking for most of the town.”

“Well it’s not that surprising,” Hazel says, “You just showed up one day and no one here knows shit about hockey. But after everyone tried to get Matt to marry their daughters they picked up on the,” she lowers her voice, “secret,” and then raises it again, “and now some guy is living with Matt? What else are they supposed to think.”

“It’s not a secret,” Matt says with an eye roll.

“Yes but everyone in this town is like 80 and they all think saying gay is offensive,” Hazel says, “I pointed out you were gay once to Mr. Handenbeck and he scolded me even when I told him that’s like, totally cool to say nowadays.”

“Gotta love small town life,” Matt says.

“So no one else is concerned about this?” Mitch asks.

“What? That you’re my sugar baby?” Matt asks.

“I make more money than you,” Mitch says with a glare.

“And you’re definitely not giving me any sugar,” Matt agrees, “You know, it is offensive, I am offended. I have better standards.”

“Oh shut up,” Mitch says, “you do not,”

“Where’s all this money by the way?” Matt asks, “Mr. Millionaire, maybe you should be _my_ sugar daddy.”

Mitch laughs and looks down at Ashe who’s sniffing at his coffee cup curiously. “I honestly haven’t looked at my bank account in at least a month,” he says, “My dad may have drained the whole thing and bought 20 penthouse apartments in Toronto by now for all I know.”

“Real estate’s a good investment,” Matt says.

“Apartments aren’t real estate,” Hazel points out.

“If he _bought_ them, then they are, jesus,” Matt says “I’m gonna fire you for being a smartass one day.”

“You just gave me a raise,” She says.Matt shrugs and doesn’t argue the point, already caught. Mitch smiles at both of them and takes another sip of his coffee.

“What happened anyway?” Hazel asks, looking towards Mitch, “You played hockey together and Matt’s ancient but you’re young. Why’d you stop?””

“It’s not really…” Matt starts but Mitch cuts him off by holding up a finger.

“I got hurt,” He says to her, “like three years ago, I had to finally hang up my skates this year.”

“Holy shit, it took you three years?” She asks.

“Head injury,” Matt says and rubs the back of his head like he’s having sympathy pains, “you never know with those things, One day everything's bad but the next day it’s fine. Hockey players don’t quit until they have to, especially not Mitch’s age.”

“That’s rough,” She says, “I took a class on traumatic brain injury in my undergrad,” She says making Matt snort, “no seriously. It’s fucked up. We were looking at brain images and stuff. They were comparing a football player's brain and a guy who got shot in the head. The football player had a lot more brain damage. Repetitive head injuries are no joke.”

“Could have told you that one,” Mitch says, “my brain’s never gonna work again, but it’s fine,”

“That’s what Grafton’s for,” Matt says, “Never have to deal with anything here.”

“Just a bunch of old people and us,” Hazel says.

“There are like, at least 50 kids here” Matt says, “they make me go to the elementary school every now and then.”

“Yeah because the teachers like watching you lift things,” Hazel says.

“Well we all need to get our entertainment somewhere,” Matt shrugs.

“Yeah, and where do you get yours?” Hazel asks, and Matt just rolls his eyes.

“Ready to go to the park?” He asks Mitch, “Hazel has to get back to work.”

“Ugh, fuck you,” Hazel says, “I’ll get you to crack one of these days. We’re gonna get you hitched whether it kills me or not.”

“Are _you_ ready to go to the park Ashe?” Matt asks bending down, his voice high pitched and excited. Hazel rolls her eyes behind him but Ashe is jumping up then, trying to lick Matt’s face and barking excitedly.

“Yes he is! Yes he is,” Matt says and leans down pulling the leash free from the foot of the bench and standing up.

“Bye, Hazel,” Mitch says as he stands up.

“Bye,” Hazel says and shakes her head towards Matt.

 

*****

 

“Hey,” Mitch shakes awake violently and almost hits the wall behind him when he realizes he’s in the bath. He makes eye contact with Matt, still breathing hard, eyes still wide.

“You okay?” Matt asks, reaching out and brushing his wet hair behind his ear, “You know where you are bud?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mitch says, “Fuck I can’t believe I fell asleep in the bath,”

“You’re tired, get out, come on,” Matt says, “You’ll get cold and die of hypothermia in August, how embarrassing for a Canadian.”

“Oh fuck you,” Mitch mumbles and tries to sit up. The world swims so suddenly that he has to catch himself on the side of the bath. This is exactly why he doesn’t shower often anymore. He has to just breathe through it.

Distantly he’s aware of Matt moving around him, reaching down into the water between his legs to pull on the drain plug. It should be awkward, it should be weird and intimate but nothing feels like much outside of the pain and the fog in front of his eyes.

It’s been 4 years since Matt played an NHL game but he’s still so strong and he scoops Mitch out of the bath like he weighs nothing. Which is probably true seeing as Mitch hasn’t tried to actually build muscle in years. It just makes it all the easier for Matt to place him gently on the bathroom floor and throw a towel around his shoulders.

Matt sits next to him on the floor as Mitch puts his head against his knees and tries to breathe through everything. He feels like he’s on a rollercoaster, just sitting there. The ground isn’t spinning beneath him but he feels like he could fall over anyway, just sitting still. All he can do is keep his eyes closed, and breathe until everything rights itself enough. Just enough, that’s all he needs.

He feels something warm curl around his hand where it’s resting next to him on the ground. He grabs it back before he completely registers that it’s Matt’s hand and something about how sturdy and still Matt is makes everything else start to slow down.

“Fuck,” Mitch mutters, and slowly lifts his head, cracking his eyes open and whining when the bathroom light is too much.

Matt doesn’t even need to ask before he’s reaching up and turning the light off. Drowning them both in complete darkness. But at least that’s easier on his head.

“Is it already August?” he asks, his voice croaking, leaning his head against Matt’s shoulder.

“Mmhm,” Matt says, “You’ve been here for over a month now,” he says.

Mitch feels like his throat is constricting when he turns his head towards Matt and rubs his cheek along his shoulder.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Mitch says quietly.

“Oh, Mitchy,” Matt says and his arm comes up around Mitch’s shoulders and pulls him closer. He doesn’t say anything else but he’s holding Mitch close and that’s enough, that’s enough just to make him feel better.

A few minutes later Matt helps him stand up and lead him into the room that has become Mitch’s. He wrestles Mitch into clothes and goes to pull his bedding back when Mitch grabs for him.

“Do you want me to leave?” He asks. Matt looks at Mitch then, brow furrowed in worry.

“no, of course not,” he says putting an arm loosely around Mitch’s waist in something akin to a hug, “stay here as long as you want it’s just…”

“What?” Mitch asks.

“I’m stuck here but you don’t have to be,” he says.

“I want to be,” Mitch says, “being stuck here is the only thing that’s made me feel normal in years.”

Matt reaches up to brush back his hair again, staring at Mitch but refusing to make eye contact with him. His finger lingers a little bit longer just behind Mitch’s ear enough to make him shiver just a little. Mitch can’t help it then but to rest his head on Matt’s chest and just take deep breaths and Matt’s arms tighten around him.

It’s easy for him to go limp in Matt’s arms, enough so that Matt can put him into bed and tuck him in like he’s a child. Before he leaves Mitch leans up and grabs him by the back of the neck tugging Matt back down.

“What?” Matt asks, close.

“Thank you,” Mitch says, and kisses him. It’s gentle and as chaste as it gets, just at the corner of Matt’s mouth. Affections always been his life blood and he doesn’t know any other gesture to truly show Matt how much he means it. A hug isn’t enough when Matt is the one holding _him_. So he kisses him, something light, something genuine, something pure, something that Matt can’t misconstrue.

A thank you. A ‘love you’. A ‘you’re saving my life’.

“You’re welcome,” Matt says back, breathless.

 

******

 

“You still not back?” Auston’s voice sounds familiar but still so foreign over the phone.

“No,” Mitch says staring out at the back yard, as Ashe runs around happily, chasing an old watering can he’s already bit multiple holes into, “I’m still in Vermont.”

“How’s Matt doing by the way?is it really that great down there? I feel like all my friends just move to Vermont and don’t come back.” His laugh is a little hollow but Mitch appreciates the effort.

“He’s good,” Mitch says, “It’s cute here but you’d hate it.”

“Oh yeah?” Auston says.

“There’s nothing to do,” Mitch says, “everyone’s old and Matt’s always working.”

“But you like it?” Auston asks.

“Yeah, it’s amazing, there’s nothing to do.” Auston laughs and Mitch can’t help but smile a bit himself.

“I guess if there’s anything you need right now it’s nothing to do. I can’t imagine your parents are totally stoked about this though, I get the feeling they thought you’d be back by now.”

“They’re just anxious you know,” Mitch says, “they’re so worried about the future but like…”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know. There’s so much time and I don’t have any space left in my head to worry about the future. I just… don’t know how to tell them I don’t care about sponsorships and getting a job. Because I know I should care. At some point I have to start caring. I can’t just… stay here forever and have Matt protect me from everything.”

“Why not?” Auston asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Matt protecting you from everything is pretty much what he does best. It’s our parents jobs to worry about us but if you’re happy there you don’t need to start worrying as well. Things are working,” Auston says

“That’s new.”

“What?”

“Things working, that’s new for me,” Mitch says, “It’s usually like, if things are going good I’m missing something. Like if it feels easy, if it feels right it’s because I’m slacking, I’m not pushing myself hard enough. I feel like the other shoe is about to drop.”

There’s a short pause before Auston speaks up again,

“There’s nothing easy about what you’ve been going through.And if the other shoe does drop and Matt does kick you out I’ll, fucking, I don’t know, buy you a house in the middle of nowhere and let you just stay there forever if that’s what you want.”

“My _hero_ ,” Mitch laughs

“Hey,” Auston says, sharply, “I love you.”

“I love you too. But you gotta also get me a dog.”

“Sure,” Auston says, “Anything else.”

“A bed and breakfast.” Auston laughs at him.

“Okay, okay I’m going to hang up before you drain my bank account.”

“I thought you _loooved_ me, Auston, what you’re suddenly putting a price tag on my happiness.” Mitch asks.

“Yes, I’ve decided i’m cutting you off. I can’t support this lifestyle anymore Mitch. You need to get a minimum wage job at Tim Horton’s to start paying me back.” Auston says.

“Yes sir, until I get fired for stealing all the birthday cake timbits.”

“Those are bad for you,”

“Auston they’re so _good_ ,” Mitch moans.

Auston laughs, “I knew you’d never be able to make it on your own.”

“Some people were just born to be spoiled.”

He can hear the smile in Auston’s voice, “I gotta go Mitchy though, for real, But I’ll call you soon, alright? And you can call me anytime.”

“You got it,” Mitch says, “And thank you, for real.”

“Anytime,” Auston repeats.

 

*******

 

For the first NFL game of the season Matt invites Hazel over and the three of them camp out in front of the TV and pretend that it’s some sort of party. Ashe at least seems to think it is, spinning in excited circles so that Matt will throw food to him.

“Bad manners,” Matt chastises but throws a chip for him anyway.

“Wonder who taught him that,” Hazel says.

“It’s okay he deserves it,” Matt smiles.

Mitch tries to engage with them but it’s hard. It’s been a bad day and Matt has noticed, giving him space and not pushing him to do anything. Neither Hazel or Matt seem to really acknowledge that Mitch hasn’t said anything and Hazel doesn’t ask why only one light in the family room is on.

If anything, Ashe is the most concerned about it, walking over to Mitch and nudging his knee or limp hand to demand attention every few minutes just to have Matt call him back over. Mitch wants to tell Matt it’s not necessary because sometimes when Ashe lays on top of Mitch it’s enough to suppress everything else as well. But he doesn’t have the energy. So he just lays there, eyes sliding shut and opening whenever a sharp pain forces him awake.

Maybe he should go to bed but the noises of the people around him are comforting more than they’re anything else, so he really, really doesn’t want to go.

But his head, it hurts so bad. It’s almost unbearable and he’s just laying there, unable to do much more than close his eyes. His whole body is limp like he’s paralyzed, like he’s awake in a dead body. It’s really all a little too much but he can’t do anything about it besides lay there.

He feels something wet on his face and is able to flinch away a little and hear Matt say, “Hey, Ashe, stop,” but then there’s a presence in front of him and a hand on his face and he knows it’s Matt.

“Mitchy,” Matt says slowly, “it’s time for bed okay.”

“Can’t move,” Mitch mumbles back.

“Okay,” Matt says, “That’s okay.”

“Don’t want to go to bed,” Mitch says, “what if something bad happens.”

“Bad? Like what?” Matt asks.

“I don’t know,” Mitch says, “if I’m alone something bad is going to happen.”

“Okay, that’s fine, do you want to come to bed with me?” He asks.

“If that’s okay.” He doesn’t see or hear what Matt’s immediate response is but then Matt is picking him up, just like he had from the bath. Mitch doesn’t really understand how a human being carrying him up stairs could somehow be more comfortable than a couch, or a bed, but it is. It’s comforting, like pressing ice to a sore knee.

Not that Matt’s embrace has healed his brain or anything but it just reassures him that he made the right choice and when he’s in Matt’s bed he can tell immediately it’s different from his own, better even.

It’s not better in the morning. Besides his head splitting open all he can feel is an inconsistent vibration coming from a solid weight across his hips

“Ashe!” Matt hisses, “Stop it.”

The vibrating starts up again but this time there’s a sharp bark and Matt swears.

“Stop, Ashe, I’m not going to hurt him.”

Ashe barks again.

“Wha…” Mitch blinks his eyes open and looks around.

He’s pinned under Ashe which isn’t too odd except that Matt’s standing two feet away from the bed with his hands up in surrender. Ashe’s ears are pointed upwards, he keeps lunging towards Matt, and it isn’t to happily lick him in greeting.

“What’s going on,” Mitch asks and sits up.

“Wait…” Matt says and lurches forward.

Ashe doesn’t react to Mitch moving so much as lunge at Matt, teeth bared and causing Matt to step back again.

“What’d you do?” Mitch asks and Ashe turns towards him, ears back and licks once at Mitch’s face before turning back towards Matt.

“I didn’t do anything,” Matt says, “I got up earlier to head over to the Inn to help Hazel with something and when I came back Ashe wasn’t down by the door like he usually is and when I came up here he was lying on you like this. I don’t know if he can sense that something’s wrong with you or what but when I tried to approach the bed, just to walk over there and grab my clothes Ashe started growling and every time I get close to you he lunges for me.”

Mitch frowns and then rubs at Ashe’s ears, “Hey, honey,” He coos and Ashe looks at him almost apologetically and tries to lick at Mitch’s wrists as he rubs Ashe’s ears. “You have to be nice to Matt okay, he’s not gonna hurt me.” He presses his hands into Ashe’s face and leans in, “we love him okay?”

Ashe just licks at his face and when Mitch goes to move he gets up and jumps off the bed. Matt stands perfectly still as Mitch gets up as well, putting his phone into his pocket and watching closely as Ashe sniffs at Matt’s feet and then whines at him.

“Hey, it’s okay bud,” Matt says and pets at his head, “I know you’re just scared.”

Ashe leans heavily against Matt and starts licking at his hands, apologetic and submissive in a way that makes Mitch’s heart hurt.

“It’s better,” Mitch lies. Matt gives him a sad look.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, if you need to keep sleeping. I’ll even let you keep the guard dog.”

“No,” Mitch says, “I don’t want to be in bed all day.”

“Alright then,” Matt says, “How about a walk?”

 

*****

 

They don’t go on their usual path down the road for this walk, but instead Matt takes him over to the river across the street where they walk along the bank. Ashe loves the change of scenery too and goes splashing in the water, pawing at little things that move and picking up rocks that he runs over and drops at Matt’s feet.

“Good boy!” Matt says each time and then throws the rock back, causing Ashe to make chase. He never brings back the same one but Matt doesn’t seem to care, keeping his dog occupied and happy. Otherwise Mitch hugs himself in his hoodie and stares off at the horizon as the sun starts to go down slowly. He slept almost the whole day away again and it makes him close his eyes. Three years and no improvement. Three years of utter hell.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair. _It’s not fair_.

“Hey,” Matt bumps into him lightly as he comes up behind Mitch, “get out of your head,”

“I am,” Mitch says.

“Uh huh,” Matt says and then, “Oh! Good boy!”

Ashe barks happily and Mitch stops with Matt as he leans down and throws the rock back into the water. Even with the way his head is pounding, a more dull thud than a sharp pain now, he can’t help but smile at the clumsy way Ashe bounds into the water and goes hunting for another rock.

“That’s what dogs consider work,” Matt jokes, “Picking up rocks, retrieving,” He says, “They were farm dogs originally.”

“Like sheepdogs?” Mitch asks.

“More like, general laborers, they’re good at everything,” Matt says, “Like say I was looking for stones for a walkway in my backyard. I’d never have to go to a hardware store to find them.”

Mitch smiles as Ashe pokes his head out of the water with another rock and splashes back over to them, shaking his body happily as he drops it by Matt’s feet.

“Good boy,” Matt sings and throws the rock back. By now they’ve stopped walking entirely, just watching Ashe as he runs back into the water. Which Mitch is okay with, the exercise is more for the dog anyway at this point.

“Thought you said he was bad at the working dog stuff.” Mitch says.

“No, just not breed typical,” Matt says, “well not until today.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen him get aggressive towards anyone before, let alone me,” Matt says, “but there you go again, mixing everything up.”

“that sounds like maybe it’s a bad thing.” Mitch says, a furrow in his brow

“Not at all,” Matt says, “Hey,”

“What?”

“Hold on,” Matt says and then his arms are under Mitch, picking him up and making Mitch let out a totally manly squeal as he clings to Matt’s neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t pass out and die,” Matt says and then he steps forward, on a rock sticking out of the river.

“Oh my god you’re going to kill us,” Mitch says.

“I will not,” Matt says, “The water’s only like a foot deep anyway,” and then he steps on another rock like he’s trying to cross the river, “there’s no way you’d make it across and besides I want to show you something.”

“Oh god,” Mitch moans and goes limp in Matt’s arms, “this is how I die, dropped on a rock and drowned by Matt Martin in the New England wilderness.”

“You wouldn’t know the New England wilderness if it bit you in the ass, Mitchy,” Matt says, “Suck it up drama queen it’s gonna be worth it.”

As much as Mitch keeps staring down at the rocky water expecting it to come at him fast when Matt drops him, it doesn’t happen. Matt moves deftly on the rocks across the water and is able to step down on the bank on the other side of the river without so much as a drop of water landing on Mitch at all. In fact when Matt puts him back down, Mitch feels a lot more unsteady on his own feet than he ever did in Matt’s arms

“What is it, what did you just _have to_ show me?” Mitch huffs.

“Come on,” Matt grabs his hand and then starts through the woods lining the bank, Ashe barking behind them and then running to catch up.

“Sorry bud,” Matt says to Ashe, “We’ll get back to your rocks soon.”

It’s not the thickest or deepest woods and they walk pretty much with the river for what only has to be five minutes before the river takes a sharp turn and is in front of them again. There’s a steep drop to the bank that Ashe leaps down like he knows exactly where they’re headed and Matt jumps down after him but turns to help Mitch.

“I’m not that fragile,” Mitch huffs but Matt doesn’t move just grabs Mitch’s hand and watches him closely when Mitch jumps down.

“Just watching out for you,” Matt says.

It becomes pretty obvious where they’re headed just a few feet down the river bank. There’s a large tree just on the edge of the woods, poking out over the river. And during a flood the water current must have gotten strong enough to wash away the dirt and mud beneath the tree because there was a huge hollow in the ground just below it, with roots sticking out like spider legs. The ground below them is different too, not the loose dirty and dead grass from before, but a smooth and solid clay, that slopes into the water like a more traditional beach.

Matt sits down and pats the ground next to him and Mitch just smiles as he sits next to him.

“This is what we call a beach in Vermont,” Matt says.

“It’s cute,” Mitch says, “But everything here is,”

“NHLers need more cute in their lives,” Matt says leaning back on his hands, “so obsessed with big, more, exciting. Why not just a little clay beach on a stream?”

“I think you cracked the code,” Mitch tells him, “this is what’ll finally cure my head.”

Matt turns a sad smile towards him, “that was a bullshit hit.” He says.

“My dad threatened to press charges against Domi. There was a whole blow up between him and leafs management as they tried to explain to him that they understood why he was so pissed off but it was just Hockey. And of course. I mean Tie Domi’s son, could you imagine the bad PR?” Matt rolls his eyes and looks back towards the river,

“I know it’s probably giving myself too much credit, but that would not have happened if I was still there.”

“Would you have been?” Mitch asks.

“What?” Matt asks, confused.

“Like, if you were still in Toronto when it all happened would you have retired? Would you have wanted to?”

“It was… it was complicated,” Matt sighs, “but if you still needed me I would have been there. I would have crushed that little fucker before he could have gotten anywhere near you. I know everyone wanted to make a big deal about it but the truth was, I just outgrew the game. It was a blessing in disguise. For me at least. I probably could have stuck around and made a big impact on the game for the LGBT community or whatever,but that’s not me, I don’t think I could have done that. But run a truck through Max Domi? Sure.”

Mitch smiles, “You didn’t deserve that you know,” he says, “The way the NHL handled the situation, the way that guy did. You were too good for the NHL to just brush you aside.”

“I wasn’t fucking Gretzky Mitch, I couldn’t even touch Leo.” Matt says.

“That’s not what I meant. Sure you were a sucky hockey player,” Matt laughs, “But you’re a good man and the NHL decided to fuck you over because that was easier. You could have stuck around and made an impact for the gays or whatever, but the NHL could have done it too, they could have made a historic statement and just let you play.”

“I wasn’t the person they were going to make any statement for,” Matt says.

“But you were worth it. And you didn’t deserve the way they treated you.”

“I’m doing pretty good. It took me a long time to be happy after the NHL. Even here, it’s just… so lonely sometimes. Everyone here is great, but Hazel’s the only person I can really call a friend. I wasn’t used to being on my own but I learned how to deal with it pretty quickly. It was brutal but ultimately worth it.”

“Yeah?” Mitch asks. Matt nods and looks at him again.

“it’s not lonely when you’re here though.”

“Auston said you’d probably let me stay here forever and protect me from everything,” Mitch says, and he’s not particularly sure why except that in that moment he thinks it reigns true. Truer than usual maybe.

“Probably,” Matt says, “I can’t pretend that keeping you here isn’t very appealing.”

“But?” Mitch asks, because he can feel it coming.

“You shouldn’t be here much longer,” Matt says and sighs, messing with something on the ground, probably a stick or something. “Your parents are already worried, they think you ran off and joined a cult. The NHL is talking about how you dropped off the face of the earth after announcing you weren’t coming back. You can’t end up lonely and stuck like I did.”

“But you’re happy,” Mitch says, “you love it here.”

“I _do_ ” Matt says, “but it’s isolating. You shouldn’t be isolated Mitchy, there are so many people out there that love you.”

“The same for you,” Mitch says, “What? Do you just not want to share your little diamond in the rough with me?”

“I would share everything with you,” Matt says, “but you should give the rest of your life a chance.”

“I don’t have a rest of my life,” Mitch says, “I can’t think further than an hour ahead, I don’t want a future right now.”

“Well I’m not going to make you go anywhere.”

 

*****

 

Mitch’s world is spinning as he lies on the bathroom floor, a mess of fevered skin and weak limbs. If he had anything left in his stomach he’d probably still be doubled over the toilet still but all that’s left is the uncomfortable taste of stomach acid along his teeth and his shaking knees.

“Here,” Matt says and enters the bathroom with a cup of something, “please try to drink this.”

“No,” Mitch says, “I don’t want anything.”

“You’re going to dehydrate.”

“Good,”

“Mitch.”

“No,” Mitch says and turns over onto his side, “I don’t want anything I don’t want to get better.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway nothing fucking matters.” he’s whining and he knows it’s probably annoying but he just grips the side of his head and breathes deeply.

“Mitchell,” Matt says and he’s sitting next to Mitch on the ground now, Matt’s presence is hard to ignore no matter how shitty he feels. “You can feel better if you just…”

“No! I can’t feel better. I’ve never fucking felt better. I feel like I’m dying all the time. Doesn’t fucking matter what I do. Doesn’t matter if I’m miserable in Toronto or miserable here. Doesn’t matter if it’s Auston breaking into my apartment to make sure I’m alive or you playing nurse. I always feel fucking terrible. I’m fucking dying but no one will let me.”

“That’s not what this…”

“I can’t even fucking play hockey anymore. You think this town’s isolating? Bullshit! Want to know what’s actually isolating? realizing that all I’ve ever been is a hockey player and now I can’t even look at ice without the possibility of dying. I’m nothing,” Mitch says and digs his nails into the side of his head,“I’m nothing but dying.”

“Hey,” Matt says, tugging at Mitch’s arms, he sounds almost angry, “Come on,” “Don’t touch me” Mitch says, “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me,” he repeats, angrier and angrier as Matt doesn’t listen, pulling Mitch up so they’re staring at each other. “Let go of me,” He hisses.

“Relax,” Matt says, one hand gripping Mitch’s arm and the other coming up to his jaw.

“Don’t!” Mitch slaps Matt’s hand away from his face.

“Fucking, listen to me for two seconds,” Matt says and grabs Mitch’s wrist, holding it down so he can’t lash out again. Restraining Mitch with strong but gentle hands in his lap.

“No,” Mitch says, “No there’s literally nothing I want to hear from you right now. You don’t get what this is like, you don’t get what it _feels_ like.”

“I’m not a hockey player anymore either, Mitch.”

“Fuck you,” Mitch says, “Seriously fuck you, you gave up. You threw it away. One sex tape and you’re fucking running from your problems. I _never_ ran. I _never wanted to_ . I was locked away in my apartment for years. I couldn’t do anything. I can’t fucking. Drive. I can’t even remember things half the time. I can’t… I’m stuck in my head, I’m trapped. I have nowhere to go. I am no one. And you gave _it all up_ . We are not the same. You do not _get me._ ”

Mitch breathes hard, teeth chattering like he’s shivering but it’s not the early autumn chill that’s getting to him, but a heavy adrenaline rush that’s flooding his system. If he had any strength in his arms, any ability to move them on his own at all he’d be lashing out and hitting Matt square in the jaw. He’d hate himself for it but Matt could take it and Mitch. Mitch needs to fucking _hit something_.Matt just stares him down though, still holding his hands still like cuffs, like he can read Mitch’s mind and sees a strike coming from miles away.

“Hate to break it to you,” Matt says finally, voice stable, “Despite you’re sound logic, you are not _nothing_ Mitchell. Unfortunately you’ve always been a lot more than a hockey player to me. In fact the hockey was the least important part of you to me. So you’re not nothing. You are not no one. And you are not dying. You are going to drink, and it’s going to make you feel better and then you are going to go to bed.”

“Fuck you,” Mitch says again.

“Yeah, yeah,” and Matt reaches up to grab the cup from the counter before pressing it to Mitch’s lips, “drink up, brat.”

 

******

 

“You’re running up quite the coffee bill,” Beth says as she hands Mitch his coffee.

“Matt can handle it,” Mitch says, “He knows what he was getting into.”

“I’m sure he’s happy to give you all the coffee you want,”She smiles at him.

“Well it’s your coffee, anyone keeping me from it would have to deal with my wrath and Matt knows better than that,” Mitch tells her with a smile.

“And tell him that I’ve noticed he hasn’t  been in for dinner in a while and I am getting worried that he's not eating properly. You know proud men, never want to admit they need help, especially when they need it most. And who knows what kind of food he reheats in that house of his,” Mitch laughs.

“Oh I know all about proud men. I’ll make sure to tell him although I think he’s been pretty well fed recently.”

“Well ,of course, you’re looking out for him.”

“I try,” Mitch says, shrugging

He says bye to Beth then and crosses the street to the Inn where Ashe is already tied to the bench and wagging his tail happily when he sees Mitch.

“Hey baby,” Mitch says happily as he sits down next to him, “how are you doing?”

Ashe’s only response is to lick at Mitch hands and roll over onto his back.

“Oh yes, I’m good too,” Mitch coos at him and then rubs at his belly.

The sound of the door closing makes Mitch look up as Matt walks out, in his dark blue Grafton Inn hoodie. He sits down on the grass next to Mitch and sighs, rubbing at his forehead.

“You okay?” Mitch asks.

“Yeah,” Matt says, “Hazel’s freaking out because we have to hire all these people to help with this wedding that’s going on next month and it’s just… hectic in there. I’m so glad I’m never getting married.”

“Aww,” Mitch says, “don’t be like that, Matt.”

“Nope, nope never, no weddings ever for this one.” Matt says and drops down to the lay on the grass and throw an arm over his eyes, “I’m going to grow into what I was always meant to be, an old maid with 7 dogs.”

“And a really strong wrist,” Mitch says into his coffee. Matt snorts.

“being married has nothing to do with getting off, Mitchy, you should know that.”

“Well,” Mitch says. Matt just gives him a disbelieving look.

“you have called me when you were getting laid before.”

“One, I was drunk so it’s illegal to hold it against me and two, I just mean lately with the,” he gestures towards his head, “and all the medications they give me for it. It’s killed my sex drive. Even when I’m like, ready to go my dick won’t get with the program so it’s just like. Celibacy is the name of the game for me.”

“I was wondering why you weren’t like drooling to let a woman touch you, any woman, really pushing yourself there Mitchy, this is good for your self-control.”

“Well you haven’t gotten laid since I’ve been here either,” Mitch says.

Matt rolls his eyes.

“Don’t pretend like you’re meeting up with random dudes in parking lots while I sleep in your bed,” Mitch says.

“I'm also an adult Mitch, I don’t need to get laid.”

“I’m an adult too, I’m not that 20-year-old kid you used to babysit in Toronto anymore,” Mitch says.

“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” Matt says but it sounds underhanded, sleezy.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Mitch asks.

“Nothing Mitch, it doesn’t mean anything,” Matt says, laughing openly, “just that you were a scrawny little fuck back then and now you’re like an actual adult, I’m proud of you.”

“Whatever I was great,” Mitch says.

“Didn’t say you weren’t.”

 

******

 

Mitch kisses Matt again in their kitchen, taking them both by surprise. It’s just, he thinks about what Beth said. Proud men and not asking for what they need. Because she had it all wrong, Matt’s not a proud man, not _that_ proud man. He’s cooking food for Mitch like he always has, taking care of Mitch like he always has. he’s doing it happily, a smile on his face, like this is what he always wanted.

Matt isn’t hooking up with random dudes in parking lots or even giving anyone a second glance. Since Mitch has been here Matt’s only had eyes for him.

Mitch may be proud but he’s not that proud. He’s not afraid to admit he was wrong.

“Hey Matt,” Mitch says when Matt stands up and closes the oven.

“What?” Matt asks, looking after at him, unsuspecting and taking the oven mitts off.

“Come here,” Mitch says.

Matt doesn’t ask him why or even hesitate, just walks over to him. He let’s Mitch reach up and grab the sides of his hoodie, tugging him down and towards Mitch. When he kisses him Matt doesn’t seem to know how to respond but Mitch really isn’t that scrawny 20 year old that Matt played with, and so he knows how to kiss, knows how to draw Matt into kissing him back.

Matt’s hand comes and rests gently at Mitch’s hip, and he’s kissing back, gentle and imploring. Mitch can’t stop himself from pressing close, Matt’s warmth below his hoodie radiating into Mitch’s body as he runs his hands down Matt’s back, resting just along the top of his jeans.

As the seconds pass Mitch can feel the hesitation drain from Matt and his hands go for resting against Mitch to one locking around Mitch’s waist and the other going up into his hair, brushing along the back of his ear. It’s not frenzied, it’s not desperate, it’s patient and calculated and deep. It’s the kind of kiss Mitch thought was reserved for movies, for cutting off romantic speeches, for standing in torrential downpours.  instead Mitch gets this kiss, in a kitchen in nowhere Vermont, a tv in the living room playing the news about how lightning struck a cow a county over, and the smell of tomatoes and spices wafting from the lasagna in the oven.

“Jesus,” Matt mutters when Mitch pulls away, just a centimeter before kissing Matt again softly.

“Thank you,” Mitch whispers, “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Matt says back.

 

******

 

October weather is nice in New England, Mitch is learning that pretty quickly. It’s sunny and the trees look beautiful, but what gets him the most is the breeze. There’s always been a breeze here -- a smooth heavy breeze in the summer, a fresh light breeze in September, and now one with just a little bit of a nip. It’s like a cold shower in small doses, keeping you awake and alert without the discomfort.

It’s why Mitch makes Matt keep the window open at night when they sleep.

For nights like this.

Matt’s just kissing the back of his neck, along his shoulders and up to his hairline. It’s all he can do because Mitch’s head feels like it’s constricting on his brain, like he’s being squeezed from the inside.

“Relax,” Matt mutters and his thumb comes down gently to rub at the space between his eyes where Mitch is scrunching up his face, “it’s just going to hurt more.”

“It couldn’t,” Mitch says, “it couldn’t hurt anymore.”

“Okay,” Matt says and he snakes his arm under Mitch’s head and curls it up, pulling Mitch into his chest so Matt can kiss him on the cheek and then on the temple, along his brow bone.

“S’not working,” Mitch mutters but he doesn’t want Matt to stop, if anything, he falls into Matt more. “I hurt everywhere, you’re gonna have to speed up your kissing.”

“Hmm,” Matt says, “too bad I like to take my time,”.

Mitch sighs as Matt keeps kissing his face, gentle and warm, steady as he’s always been. He melts into it but minutes go bye and he’s just, still so sore everywhere.

“Sorry,” Mitch says, “It just, hurts,”

“Why are you saying sorry?” Matt asks.

“You’re trying so hard,” Mitch says and swallows, “And at some point you’re going to get sick of playing nurse with me.”

“Not playing Mitchy, I am your nurse,” Matt says and kisses him on the lips this time, a statement.

“Still,” Mitch says.

Matt pauses and doesn’t say anything right away just let’s Mitch breathe in his arms for a few seconds before pressing a final kiss to his cheek and rolling away.

“Where are you going?” Mitch frowns, but doesn’t open his eyes.

“I’m right here,” Matt says and he rolls back over, pushing Mitch just a little so he’s on his side with Matt spooned up behind him. “Tell me if you’re not into this,” he says, “but I have an idea.”

“What?” Mitch asks, curious as Matt’s hand comes down around his hips and pushes up his shirt. At first it’s just Matt’s hand rubbing at his stomach, his abs and down along his hips. Mitch doesn’t tell him to stop even as his body doesn’t react.

If this was… if the circumstances were normal his blood would be pounding and he’d be vibrating under his skin already. But it’s not, everything hurts, and he’s not the sure the last time any part of his body even acknowledged he had a dick. But Mitch also isn’t _not_ into it and it feels nice, to be touched and pet so he doesn’t want Matt to stop, doesn’t ask him too.

Matt doesn’t seem concerned by Mitch’s lack of response and just keeps, touching him, steady. He slowly pushes Mitch’s boxers down and out of the way but doesn’t go to touch his still soft dick, just rubs his hands along Mitch’s thighs and starts kissing at the back of Mitch’s neck again. That feels nice, that feels really nice.

Mitch sighs and relaxes back into Matt and hopes that he doesn’t stop when he realizes Mitch still isn’t really getting hard. He hopes that Matt just wants to touch him, just wants to bathe him with affection and won’t stop just because Mitch may not get off.

It’s still not totally off the table though because if Matt does keep it up, there’s nothing to say Mitch won’t react. 19-year-old him would have been so pissed at Mitch now, getting to be in bed with Matt Martin, naked in all the ways that matter, and not jumping at the chance. He’d tell Mitch to suck it up, who cares about a concussion, this is a once in a lifetime chance. But 26-year-old Mitch is just silently hoping Matt won’t stop, knows this isn’t a once in a lifetime chance, and knows that if anyone can get him going it’s Matt.

“You don’t know how beautiful you are,” Matt says to him, “how nice you feel.”

“Just, don’t stop,” Mitch says back, “I don’t want you to stop.”

“Yes sir,” Matt mutters into the back of his neck.

Slowly Matt’s hands are coaxing enough that Mitch gets mostly hard, enough that it matters and Matt pulls his hands away slowly. Mitch wants to reach out and grab him, make him start up again but he said he wasn’t going to stop and so Mitch trusts him. Trusts him to come back.

And he does, this time with a lubed up hand and Mitch shivers hard when he finally gets his fist around Mitch’s dick.

“There you go,” Matt breathes and somehow gets closer. His hand is the best thing Mitch has ever felt, warm, and tight, and slick. Mitch leans back letting his head loll to the side, resting on Matt’s bicep and exposing his neck to Matt’s mouth.

It still takes a while, still never reaches that high crescendo it usually does but when Mitch’s orgasm crashes around him he shakes and shakes and lets out little mewling noises, his shoulders tensing as the rest of his body melts into the mattress. It’s not the strongest orgasm he’s ever felt but it still obliterates his world. It’s not hot, and fast, and intense, but it is the only thing Mitch feels. The only thing that matters.

When the orgasm is done washing through him Mitch feels it, the loosening in his body. Not taking away the deep ache in his head but the rest of his body is relaxed, loose, and he can finally blink his eyes open.

“You good?” Matt asks, he sounds breathless, “That work?”

Mitch doesn’t really care about answering the question when he finally notices how hard Matt is against him.

“You should do something about that,” Mitch says.

“I’m fine,” Matt says dismissively.

Mitch huffs and sits up even as Matt tries to press him back into the bed with a hand on his stomach. But Matt can’t make him do anything and Mitch finds the lube on the other side of Matt and grabs it.

“Seriously, Mitch, you don’t need to… what are you doing?” Mitch grins as he spreads his legs and rubs the lube between his thighs.

“There” Mitch says and lays back down, “come on,” spreads his legs just a little, “get your dick out.”

Matt swears and doesn’t resist anymore. His dick is hot and hard and when he slides it between Mitch’s thighs he lets out the hottest sound Mitch has ever heard, a shaky breath that makes him shiver.

“Yeah,” Mitch sighs and reaches back, gripping Matt’s hair, “want you to feel good.”

“I do, god, I do,” Matt mutters.

 

******

 

On halloween Mitch uses his phone to snap a picture of the jack-o-lanterns outside of their house, with Ashe sitting happily between them. It makes his heart melt just to see it in real life and he knows it’s the perfect one to post.

His instagrams been dead almost a year, and the last post was nothing, just a shot of Freddie and Auston from the previous game and a caption about how it was a good win for the boys. All the comments had made him feel sick at the time, an endless “we miss you” “get well soon”, “you’ll always be a toronto maple leaf.”  He had made that post because it was the right thing to do. But he’s making this post because he wants to.

“Happy halloween,” he types out beneath it, topped off with a ghost emoji, and presses post.

When he puts his phone in his pocket Ashe gets up from between the pumpkins and walks over to Mitch tail wagging and tongue flopping. Mitch smiles and kneels down wrapping his arms around Ashe’s neck and burying his face in Ashe’s fur.

“I love you,” He says quietly and kisses Ashe on the side of the face, “I love you so much.” and his heart aches.


	2. Snowed In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His new life is nothing but two warring sides. One that says he’s never felt a comfort like this, never felt so at peace. And another one that throws tantrums and shouts “this isn’t fair.” But he’s learning to live in the moment, learning to curl his fist along Matt’s chest and let out a deep breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I could have posted this as the second in this collection or something because it does sort of stand alone. But I decided that I'm just, going to keep this whole universe together. That being said it follows it's own sort of plot and has it's own issues even though the overarching theme of dealing with traumatic brain injury is still very present. 
> 
> I don't think I'll ever be done with this honestly.
> 
> Oh also only I edited this chapter so I apologize in advance lmao.

Town hall double as some sort of general store, with a post office at one end, a desk at another, and the staples of life stacked on shelves in between. There’s drinks, and eggs, butter and seasoning; there’s a whole stack of road maps and calendars, and hiking books that once distracted Mitch for the better part of an hour. It’s as charming as the rest of the town but usually Matt goes by himself.

“Been a while!” Mr. Handenbeck says at the desk when Mitch walks in, “getting ready for the big storm?” He asks. He has a loud, jolly booming voice. The kind of man that as a kid would have made him pause, wondering if Santa was real.

“Yeah,” Mitch says, “Matt’s out getting a new snowblower and he sent me here to get _essentials_ , but I think he just wanted an excuse to go alone.” He places his basket on the counter in front of the cashier and starts take out its contents as Handenbeck rings them up. Mostly he just grabbed bottles of water but also some soup, more milk, and peanut butter because it never goes bad even though Matt said it wasn’t necessary.

“You guys spending too much time together?” he seems genuinely concerned and Mitch huffs a small smile in response.

“No, no, no” Mitch says shaking him off, “he just likes to be alone with all of his manly contraptions and he knows I’ll rush him.”

“Ah,” Mr. Handenbeck smiles, “You’re just too practical.”

“Impatient is probably a better way to put it,” that makes him laugh and Mitch smiles again, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet.

“Good luck,” Mr. Handenbeck says as he hands Mitch his two bag, “this one isn’t going to be a joke and we don’t always get the roads cleared right away so you might be stuck there for a while.”

“That’s what Matt said,” Mitch says, “Seems wild to me though, this autumn was so warm compared to what I’m used to and it’s not even actually winter yet and we’re starting to get blizzard warnings and everything.”

“When it’s colder we get less weather like this,” Mr. Handenbeck says, “doesn’t feel much better but a lot less shoveling.”

“Yeah I bet,” Mitch says and looks to his left, just out the window and is still shocked to see the sky is completely blue and sunny out. It’s hard for him to imagine it ever getting as bad as the news had said it was going to.

 

******

 

Matt comes back home when it’s just starting to get dark and the clouds are rolling in, but he stays outside for a long time after his truck pulls in and Mitch just assumes he’s getting the snowblower ready or something. If Matt needs his help he can ask, but until then Mitch is on dinner duty and it’s not going as great as it could be, but he figures he has to learn how to be self sufficient in the kitchen at some point.

When the side door bangs open Ashe barks from the living room and dashes through the kitchen so fast he almost slips and wipes out into Matt’s shins. Mitch turns from where he’s rinsing his hands and laughs at the way Ashe’s entire body wiggles as he greets Matt.

“Hi buddy!” Matt says and rubs Ashe’s sides and then along his face before kissing his forehead, “Yeah you miss me? I’ve been gone for _so long_ haven’t I? Oh whatever did you do without me!” His cooing voice is as goofy as ever and it still makes Mitch’s heart flutter.

“Oh and hello to you too,” Matt says when he stands up, his eyes catching Mitch. The door closes behind him as he walks over, and Mitch can’t help how easily he leans towards Matt, searching out his own ‘hello’ kiss before Matt’s even within reach.

“You have fun being a man at home depot?” Mitch asks when Matt pulls away from the kiss, and just rolls his eyes at Mitch’s question.

“Yes and now we’re not going to be snowed in for months you are welcome,” Matt says.

“I thought you said you already had a snowblower?”

“Well and now we have two. What’d you get?” He asks and throws open a cabinet door.

“Mostly water,” Mitch says, “We have enough groceries but I did get peanut butter.”

“Oh joy,” Matt says blandly as he pulls the jar out of the cabinet, “You know it does actually have an expiration date, right?”

“Do you expect us to be snowed in for a year?” Mitch asks, “If so, you should tell me now so I can prepare for it.”

Matt rolls his eyes, “I just don’t know your weird attachment to peanut butter.”

“It tastes good!” Mitch says, “I’m not attached it just, you can put it on stuff or you can eat it from a spoon. It lasts. We’re good.”

Matt smiles at him fondly, a little condescending and puts the jar back, closing the door, “if we survive this it’ll be because of your peanut butter.”

“Exactly.”

 

******

 

The snow rolls in around 8 and Mitch is drifting in and out of sleep, splayed across Matt’s chest in front of their TV. He’s watching some football game probably, the volume is turned down way low so all Mitch can hear is a whistle now and again but whatever it is must not be too important because Matt barely moves at all.

It’s still hard for Mitch to actually feel rested or to slip into anything close to a deep sleep. He always feels just under the surface when he sleeps, like he can still see the world going by but it’s all distorted by crashing waves and thick water. Sounds and thoughts bleed into his unconscious enough to leave him for disoriented and thrown off when he finally does wake up. It’s almost as if his body works more when he’s sleeping than when he’s awake.

He just. Wants to sleep.

There’s a whole list of things he wants to do but sleeping is the most basic, the most _human_ , something he has to do daily and because of that he craves it like a drug. Good sleep is like good food, you know you can survive on something that doesn’t taste as good, or feel as good, but you also aren’t sure what the point of that is. Some mornings there’s nothing he wouldn’t give to wake up without that insistent burn between his eyebrows.

But he’s not there yet and at this point he’s terrified he never will be. They say that not sleeping well can stunt the healing process but this is all Mitch can do.

As his eyes flutter open every few minutes though he slowly watches the snow outside get worse and worse and at some point even hears the wind whistle as it whips around the house. And yet, it’s still so warm and cozy inside. All they have is the lamp and the TV on, Ashe is curled up on the floor right next to them, and the steady rise and fall of Matt’s chest doesn’t leave any space for Mitch to feel the cold creep in.

His new life is nothing but two warring sides. One that says he’s never felt a comfort like this, never felt so at peace, like the stress of life is so far away he can finally settle down and be happy. And another that is constantly begging to just, be okay again, be healthy, one that throws tantrums and shouts “this isn’t fair.” But he’s learning to live in the moment, learning to curl his fist along Matt’s chest and let out a deep breath.

Nothing else matters except what’s happening right now. Nothing else will do him any good. This is all he needs, it’s all he wants.

 

*******

 

It’s still snowing the next day and they have to go and relieve some of the snow from the driveway if they ever want to get out of their house again. It’s a long driveway and it’s not easy to clear because it’s not exactly paved or anything. Matt’s already complained about the way the snow inevitably gets stuck under the grass and freezes. So Mitch doesn’t even think about it as he pulls on his coat and reaches for his gloves on the table, next to Matt who’s doing the same.

“What are you doing?” Matt asks.

“Helping,” Mitch says, but when he reaches for his second glove Matt snatches it off the table right from under him and eyes Mitch warily.

“I don’t think so,” he says.

“What?” Mitch laughs, “Even with your snowblower it’s going to take hours. The snows still coming down so hard. Of course I’m helping.”

“I got it,” Matt says, his face stern in a way it rarely is, “Why don’t you go turn the taps on and stuff? Make sure the pipes aren’t freezing or something.”

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

Matt rolls his eyes and turns from Mitch grabbing for a hat hanging near the door and pulling it down over his ears, “I’m not trying to do _anything_ , Mitch, if you want to help so much there’s things in the house you can do to keep you busy. Try making dinner or boiling water to keep the air from getting too dry in here.”

“This is bullshit,” Mitch says, “you’re going to be out there all day! Are you really making a big deal about this? It’s shoveling, I’ve done this before. I know how it goes.”

“Are _you_ really making a big deal about this?” Matt shoots back as he turns back around to look at Mitch, hand going to rest on the side door that leads out to the driveway, “I’m giving you an out here, no one wants to shovel.”

“You’re treating me like a child” Mitch says, feeling his face heat up and his fists clench reflexively at his side, “this is ridiculous Matthew.”

“It’s not ridiculous, _Mitchell_ , and it has nothing to do with me treating you like a child. I know you’re an adult. I’m not blind.”

“So it’s because I’m broken then?”

Matt doesn’t reply and that’s really all the answer Mitch needs. He just keeps staring at Mitch, face serious and a little cold like he’s trying desperately to cover up what he’s really feeling. Which isn’t… fair. It’s not fair.

“Fuck you,” Mitch says and yanks off the one glove he managed to pull on throwing it as hard as he can towards Matt. It still hits Matt lamely in the chest and he’s is able to catch it without much thought but Mitch doesn’t care, already pulling his jacket off and stomping back up the stairs.

Just to be a little shit Mitch goes around and starts yanking on the faucets, turning them all on at once. Ashe follows him around as he does it, happily like Mitch is playing a game. He almost feels bad when he turns in his frustrated haste and sees Ashe panting up at him excitedly. He doesn’t even understand that Mitch is mad, because Mitch almost never is, not in front of Ashe. And maybe he’s giving a dog too much credit but it’s hard not to see Ashe as just another extension of the family he’s building with Matt here. Matt, who has done nothing but make this dog the happiest thing in the world just for Mitch to come in here and start throwing tantrums.

But it _isn’t_ fair and Mitch’s guilt isn’t enough to settle the vibrating anger deep in his bones.

Still the faucet thing was a little juvenile. So he goes back through the house almost sheepishly and turns them all off again. What was he going to do anyway? Flood the house just to piss Matt off? No it’s a lot more effective to go and delete the recording of the Lions game Matt didn’t get to watch yet.

Mitch doesn’t do that either but he sits there with the remote in his hand as he stares at it, the delete button highlighted and his thumb hovering over the OK button. It feels good just to have that in reach, a good way to release his frustration. But he exits out of it anyway and puts the remote down on the coffee table, leaning back and rubbing at his face, groaning.

It does take hours for Matt to shovel the driveway without Mitch’s help and he peers out one of the windows in the kitchen to watch at one point. The snow’s just getting worse but there’s at least a foot deep dent in the top half of the driveway and the truck already has a spot around it completely shoveled out. So he’s making progress but Mitch just sort of hates him more.

 

******

 

It couldn’t always be paradise. It couldn’t always be this little part of the world, carved out just for Matt and him, with nothing else slipping through the cracks. But Mitch still feels like he doesn’t deserve this. Life is _hard_ , Matt is supposed to be easy and Mitch doesn’t even want to look him in the eyes right now.

“What are you making?” Matt asks when he comes back in.

Mitch doesn’t turn from the stove and doesn’t respond either. Matt’s voice doesn’t necessarily sound apologetic or soft so he can go fuck himself. He just sighs at Mitch’s silence and, after a few more seconds of rustling around, Mitch hears him walking up the stairs. Ashe, who had been curled up on the rug on the kitchen gnawing on a toy gets up, toy in his mouth and trots up the stairs after him.

“Traitor,” Mitch mumbles under his breath and stirs the pasta he has boiling in front of him.

There are various Matt sounds coming from upstairs that Mitch tries not to catalogue too closely. Like he doesn’t need to know that small thud is probably the sound of Matt’s heavy winter boots hitting the floor, or that a few seconds later he hears the tell tale sound of the shower turning on.

By the time Matt comes back down stairs Mitch is distracting himself with spreading butter and garlic on pieces of bread that he’s going to pop in their toaster oven. It registers to him that he’s making far too much food – baked ziti, salad, garlic bread – way more than they ever eat but he can’t just sit around and wait for it to be done.

“You talking to me yet?” Matt asks after a few minutes of just watching Mitch work.

“Sorry, must be too sick” Mitch says, “Guess I got my ears knocked off last time I tried to pick up something over 10 pounds.”

“You’re really not going to drop this?” Matt asks and Mitch makes a disgusted noise, loud and obnoxious, just at the thought of Matt thinking they can dismiss this whole thing so easily. He doesn’t get to be a dick and have Mitch just _drop it_.

“You think I’m incapable of the most basic shit Matt, of course I’m not going to drop it.”

“It’s _shoveling_ ,” Matt says, “it’s not like I keep the knives locked up on you or get you a babysitter.”

“Shoveling isn’t fucking hard Matt. My head’s fucked up, not my body. I played hockey too. I’m strong too. I can handle shoveling, I can handle helping.”

“Why do you even want to shovel that fucking bad?” Now Matt’s voice is raising and Mitch finally turns from the counter to look at him. His hair is loose and dark from the water, curling just a little around his ears and down the back of his neck. It’s unfair that Mitch is standing here feeling like a mess, useless and burning up from the inside and Matt’s gets to be as strong and capable as always.

So no he doesn't want to shovel that fucking bad. It’s not about shoveling at all.

“You don’t get it. You can’t just…”

“What? What can’t I do?”

“You can’t just get this” Mitch waves towards Matt, “You can’t just get what you have and then not let me try to get some of it too. You can’t just… keep life from me.” His words get caught in his throat and he has to stop talking at risk of letting a sob out instead of anger. He groans and rubs at his eyes.

When he lowers his hands and looks again Matt’s leaning with one hand on the kitchen island and rubbing at his temples with his free hand, looking frustrated and put upon. “This has nothing to do with wanting to keep things from you,” Matt says.

“It doesn’t matter what it’s about, it matters what you’re doing.”

“There are just some things in life that you can’t do, Mitch,” Matt says looking at him again, same stern and almost cold face.

Mitch wants to hit something, “You think I don’t fucking know that? That’s my whole fucking life you don’t need to tell me _that_ . I can’t fucking… drive, I can’t get drunk, I can’t have sex, I can’t _sleep_. I have spent the last few years trying to deal with that so excuse me if I don’t have a lot more room left on that list even if it’s as stupid as shoveling.”

“So what?” Matt asks, “Because it makes you sad that you can’t shovel, I have to let you? I know what you’re going through is hard, but you don’t know what it’s like to see you in so much pain you can’t see, begging for me to just help you when I can’t do anything. You don’t know what it’s like to hold you when you’re struggling to just stay conscious because your head feels like it’s splitting open. You don’t know what it’s _like_ to hear the man you love begging you to let them die because everything _hurts_ . So I’m so sorry you can’t shovel, but you _can’t fucking shovel_.”

“Newsflash!” Mitch shouts, “Shoveling is not going to fuck me up even more than I’m already fucked up.”

“What if something happens to you?” Matt shouts back, “What if something happens to you and I can’t hear you because I have the snowblower going? What if something happens and I can’t _help_ you out there? It’s not _safe_.”

“We’re not in the fucking arctic circle, what do you think is going to happen? I’m going to fall down and you’re going to turn your back for 10 fucking hours, just enough time for me to be buried under the snow? You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Well you want to talk about you not being a child, I guess we can go back on that one.”

Mitch presses the tips of his pointer fingers against the bridge of his nose as he puts his hands together in front of his face and breathes hard. He’s literally never dealt with someone being so stupid before. For all Matt’s reputation is a little lacking, sometimes he really is just a big meathead.

“This isn’t fair,” Mitch says minutes later after the silence as settled between them.

“Yeah, well,” and that’s all Matt has to say.

Great fucking help he is.

 

******

 

Mitch still refuses to talk to Matt by the time they sit in front of the TV with dinner in front of them. Which, really Matt’s just lucky that Mitch made and served him dinner. If he wants anything else he’s going to have to work for it. If he wants anything else from Mitch he’s going to have to be something besides an unsympathetic, ignorant, able asshole who can just lift trucks over his head whenever he wants but can’t let Mitch step out into the snow once.

It does kind of feel a little bit like a lost cause though, the whole shoveling thing, because the snow is coming down harder now, illuminated only by the inside lights as it creates sheets of white beyond the windows. He’s had his fair share of bad weather, Toronto isn’t exactly a place you live if you want sunshine, but this is a little more intense than he had been expecting.

They’re watching some dumb TV show but around 8 Matt changes it over to the news. And Mitch actually watches in interest as they talk about the storm.

They’re in the dead centre of it right now it seems but they say snow isn’t going to stop until tomorrow around this same time. The anchorwoman starts listing places that have lost power and Mitch recognizes a few of them as towns around them and silently begs whoever’s listening to just let them keep their power. He doesn’t need to wait days for their power to turn back on because Matt will probably have to call an actual electrician to fix it for them and that means waiting for the roads to clear.

If he was talking to Matt, Mitch would ask if he ever had the hindsight to get a generator of some sort because he’s really not in the mood to be cold and stuck in the dark. They have flashlights at least, and Mitch knows right where they are, and Matt’s cars can charge their phones and keep them warm if it gets that bad.

It shouldn’t though, it’s still not that cold out despite everything else.

There’s also another story about a tree that fell across a road, and a reminder to check wheel wells of cars for any animals that may be taking shelter there before you drive off.

He honestly loves Vermont news stories. In Toronto it’s always something about government corruption, a debate on legal marijuana, or some horrific accident that killed multiple people on the 401. But here, in Vermont, it’s more like ‘local man sells most cheese in state history’ and ‘Bicycle thefts in Burlington are down 10% over the past 5 years.’ He thinks this is what people call boring news but he just loves to see what the come up with the fill the time. It takes creativity if anything.

Mitch starts to drift around 10, the unrelenting weight of his eyelids forcing themselves closed as Mitch starts to slump over on the couch against his own free will.

The worst part of this type of sleepiness is that he’s not really aware of what’s going on, that he comes in and out of it like he’s  blacking out. Because he’s supposed to be mad at Matt but next thing he’s aware of his head is in Matt’s lap and Matt’s fingers are in his hair.

Whatever, he can be mad at Matt and be comfortable at the same time. There’s no law against that.

 

******

 

Mitch isn’t sure what wakes him up but there’s something different about the air. There’s still that split second of him not knowing where he is, but he comes back to himself pretty quickly, thank god. Because something definitely is _off_ and he’s feeling anxious. He remembers vaguely that Matt lead him up to bed and Mitch can feel his presence in bed with him but he’s pretty sure the window in their bedroom isn’t even open so why is there a brisk chill?

He sits up slowly and looks around the bedroom. He can’t see anything, not even Ashe who he can feel sitting at his feet.

“Matt,” Mitch says, hurried, and nudges at his back, voice high and scared.

Matt just grumbles and sighs, not waking up.

“Matt, something's wrong, I can’t see,” he says again, more urgently grabbing Matt’s shoulder.

“What… Mitch what?” Matt sounds tired and out of it and Mitch can’t see his face. He’s trying not to hyperventilate.

“I can’t see, Matt what’s happening,” Mitch asks desperately, “it’s cold and I can’t see.

“Wait, wait, Mitch,” He feels Matt sit up in bed and then hears some rustling. Matt must be messing with something on the bed side table, a soft clicking sound is followed by a soft “fuck.” Then… light. It’s Matt’s phone.

“Oh,” Mitch feels really stupid.

“The powers out,” Matt says, “Fuck it’s freezing.”

Mitch presses a hand to his chest and lets out a shaky breath.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Matt asks.

“Nothing,” Mitch says, “nothing I just thought I…” He can’t even say it.

“Whoa, hey what?” Matt’s voice is gentle and kind as he puts his phone down on the bed, facing upwards so the flashlight lights up the whole room around them. It frees up his hands so he can put an arm around Mitch’s shoulders. “Talk to me babe, what’s going on?”

“I thought I couldn’t see, I thought…” Mitch stops himself short and looks towards where he can clearly see Ashe now at the end of the bed, curled up in on himself because it’s cold and the power is out and everything else is okay… it’s okay. “Just stupid, it’s stupid,” Mitch finally finishes.

Matt doesn't say anything but he does press a kiss to Mitch’s temple and rubs at his arms, “I’m gonna go check the breaker and see if there’s anything I can do. Stay up here, okay?”

“Okay,” Mitch says.

Matt grabs his phone and climbs out of bed and Mitch watches him leave the room mostly because it’s all he can see. When he’s alone Mitch pulls the blankets up over his head and tries to breathe evenly under the covers.

If that had… If that had been real. If, after everything he’s lost, the world took sight from him too, he not sure what he would have done, where else he would have gone. How far can he run until he stops losing things?

When Matt comes back the power is still out. “Must be the storm,” He says, “I’ll call someone in the morning.”

“Okay,” Mitch says weakly from under the covers.

He feels Matt climb back into the bed but keeps the blankets tight around him so he doesn’t have to see.

“Hey, Mitch,” Matt says, “You know it’s not stupid right? To be scared of that,”

“Yeah,” Is all Mitch can say, but his voice is still weak, still trembling and he fucking hates it. “I know I’m fine,” He says, “Just uh… cold” because it’s probably suspicious to be hiding under the covers like this.

“You’re not weak, I don’t think you’re weak.”

Mitch pretends to fall asleep shortly after.

 

*******

 

The power isn’t on in the morning and the snow is still coming down, though not as hard as yesterday. Mitch busies himself by going around the house and collecting every flashlight and candle he can find. He’s not a rookie in power outages either and if the conversation Matt had on the phone is anything to go by, they’ll be lucky to have power back by tomorrow.

“The whole area is out,” Matt says coming into the bathroom as Mitch is rifling through the clutter in the cabinet under the sink looking for batteries, “they said they trying to get every body back but it could take a while, we’re all pretty spread out here, so there’s no easy quick fix. If it goes on too long we can head to a hotel, but It shouldn’t get too cold and the snow should be stopping tonight.”

“Okay,” Mitch says and then ducks out from under the sink holding up a tooth brush he found in there, “please tell me you haven’t ever or plan to ever use this.”

Matt rolls his eyes but smiles fondly, “well not anymore.”

“Good,” Mitch says and then leans over to throw it in the trash can, “you ever go through your stuff?” he asks as he ducks back into the cabinet, “You have so much random shit just thrown into drawers and stuff.”

“Well, bless this mess, am I right?”

Mitch snorts.

“I throw away all the food, it’s fine.”

Mitch eventually is pretty sure he’s collected everything useful from the bathroom and almost expects Matt to be gone, but he had apparently been standing there the whole time watching.

“What?” Mitch asks as he grabs the flashlight and two tea lights he set aside on the counter.

“Nothing,” Matt says, “find anything good?”

“Light,” Mitch answers and shows Matt what’s in his hands.

Matt smiles at him, small but still reaching his eyes. Mitch wants to smile back but instead he clenches the flashlight tighter in his hand and skirts around Matt to head down to the living room to add to his growing pile. It’s probably not necessary at this point, a little more than obsessive, but he just needs something to do, feel useful.

Almost all the snow Matt had shoveled out yesterday is filled in again and it’s like it never happened in the first place, like the fight that resulted because of it was just ridiculous. Except that… it wasn’t. Because he’s not here to be coddled, to be patronized, and sure Matt taking care of him is a good thing and most of the time he appreciates it. But right now if Matt keeps trying to be nice to him he’s probably going to ‘accidentally’ set his old islanders jersey on fire. The ugly outdoor one. Which would be a lot less helpful than lighting a candle and neither of them need that right now.

Matt for his credit seems to pick up on Mitch’s “stay away” attitude and makes himself useful doing whatever manly caveman things he doesn’t think Mitch can handle. But he still comes back, because it’s still Matt, still drawn to Mitch.

“Don’t burn my house down,” He says, playfully from the entrance to the living room as he watches Mitch light probably too many candles.

“I’ve been tempted,” Mitch answers honestly, “but then what would Ashe do.”

“Knew that dog was a good idea.”

“Yeah, he’s my favorite thing about this place,” Mitch says a little bitterly.

“I know you’re still mad at me, but I think we both know that even if I was your favorite person in the world right now, Ashe would still be your favorite thing about this place.”

He’s not wrong and Mitch can’t help but crack a smile at that, just a little bit. “I guess you’re not always a dumb jock.”

“Usually but not always.”

Mitch sighs.

“Listen,” Matt says and walks into the living room, sitting on the couch front of the coffee table across from Mitch who’s kneeling on the ground with the lit candles in front of him. “I’m sorry that I yelled at you yesterday, I’m sorry I was dismissing how you feel. I know you’re going through hell right now, I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“I never asked you to,” Mitch says.

“You never have,” Matt says, “But sometimes it feels like what I was put on this earth to do.”

Mitch eyes him, confused.

“You keep reminding me you’re not the kid I played with in Toronto, and that’s true, but when we were there together you were a kid, and I was there to take care of you. You were a spitfire on the ice too and I felt like I was always running after you, trying to make sure nothing bad happened. Then I… then I left right? I left and you got taken out and I wasn’t even in the NHL anymore to beat the shit out of Domi when the Islanders played the Habs next. But I didn’t even really have time to feel all that useless because then you showed up on my doorstep and fell right back into my life. If everything in my life has been leading up to this, to helping you, to do all I can right now for you, I can’t ask for a better life than that.”

Mitch stares down at the candles flickering and watches as the lights go a little fuzzy before he has to wipe away the moisture of his eyes.

Finally, he controls himself enough to look back up at Matt and say, weakly, “you’re a lot more than that.”

“Doesn’t seem possible,” Matt says, “what’s more than this?”

Mitch doesn’t know how to answer that.

“I never meant to take parts of life from you, I’m so sorry. I know it’s hard, I know you feel like things are out of your control and I never meant to make that worse. But you have to know it comes from a place of… of me trying to deal with this too? It doesn’t mean I was right, it doesn’t mean you have to keep giving things up for just because I say. But you have to know, it’s not because you’re not strong, you’re not capable, or you’re not _able_ to do anything. It’s because of me, and my fears, and my confusion, and me trying to figure this all out. I know how strong you are, I know how tough you are, and I’m sorry I made you think differently, I was wrong, I’m sorry.”

“Ugh, fuck you,” Mitch groans and rubs at his face as he feels the tears start flowing for real then, “these are gonna freeze to my face.”

“Come here then,” Matt says and he’s smiling fondly when Mitch looks up, checking if he’s serious or not.

It’s easy then to crawl around the table and onto the couch, falling into Matt’s side.

 

*******

 

The next day the snow finally stops and the sun comes out like nothing happened at all, even though their power is still out. Matt says it’s a better idea to sleep in the living room, keep everything centralized to one part of the house, and leave places like their bedroom alone until the heat and power comes back.

“Safer,” Matt says, “This way we’re not stumbling around the house when it gets dark at 5pm,” and he says it like he’s waiting for Mitch to fight him on it. But it makes sense and Mitch isn’t always petty and bitter. So he nods and agrees.

Plus it’s like a sleep over.

“You’re ridiculous,” Matt says in the morning when Mitch can’t help but roll around in their pile of blankets on the ground, giggling as he playfully wiggles his fingers at Ashe.

“It’s fun,” Mitch says, then gasps, “we should tell scary stories!”

“It’s 7 am,” Matt says, “and I have to go charge my phone in the car, wanna come? We can warm up.”

Mitch looks up at him and wiggles his eyebrows. Matt just rolls his eyes but it’s impossible for him to hide his smile.

They bundle up although Mitch thinks it’s unnecessary. Sure the snow is deep but the truck is only a few feet from the front door. If necessary Matt could open the passenger door and Mitch could probably jump into the front seat from the stoop. He doesn’t think it’s worth pushing Matt though, and even dutifully pulls on his gloves and hat before following Matt outside.

In the car Matt turns on the heater and the radio almost immediately, before plugging his phone in and offering the other charger to Mitch who happily plugs his own phone in. He doesn’t use it enough for it to be completely dead but it was dangerously low anyway. He decides then that it’s probably a good idea to text his mom, let her know Matt and him survived the storm just fine and are currently having a playdate.

Matt calls Hazel when Ashe starts whining and licking at the back of Mitch’s ear from the back seat. Mitch takes that as the universal sign of “please let me out so I can go to the bathroom,” so Mitch makes vague gestures towards Matt, to hopefully convey what he’s doing and reaches in the back to open Ashe’s door and then opens his, both of them hopping out.

The snow is up to his  knees and it doesn’t feel great against his jeans or as it gets into the top of his boots but he’s fine, and retraces the small path Matt had shoveled out earlier this morning when Mitch was still sleeping. He almost thought about scolding Matt on it, except he genuinely thinks at that point Matt was just trying to be helpful, and he also had to take Ashe out too. Either way, not worth accusing Matt of doing something other than just being Matt, not this time.

The path goes around where the truck is parked and about ten feet into the backyard, probably for Ashe, as it just ends and seems to have no other use. He could, in theory, get back in the truck and wait for Ashe but it does feel nice to be outside. The weather is as clear and fresh as ever, a little cold but barely freezing. So it is nice, to stretch his legs, feel like he’s not so cooped up, and watch Ashe struggle with bounding through the snow that goes almost all the way up to his chest.

It’s not until he hears a little noise that he’s shaken out of his daydream.

He feels his eyebrow quirk and turns because the noise was coming from behind him, and it wasn’t the sound of the truck engine or the radio Matt was listening to. It was softer than that, squeakier, and it was coming from below him somehow.

When he hears it again he immediately thinks back to news and put his hand on the hood of the truck, ducking down. The wheel well, warmer now that the car is on is definitely an attractive place for animals, he just sort of hopes it’s not a raccoon or something.

It’s not a raccoon, but it is a big pile of grey fluff and Mitch’s heart melts.

“Hey,” He says gently as he reaches in.

The kitten who couldn’t be more than a month or so old looks at Mitch with it’s big, accusatory green eyes and opens it’s little mouth just to yell at him. Mitch is surprised into a fit of giggles and grabs the kitten gently, pulling it from the wheel well and into his chest. It doesn’t scratch at him or try to run, just peers back up at his face and yells again.

That’s when Ashe runs back up to him, nudging Mitch’s hands with his snout as he sniffs interestedly.

“Be nice,” Mitch says gently, “it’s a baby.”

The kitten screams.

“Mitch what are you doing?” Mitch turns to see Matt with the door half open, standing up just enough that he’s peering over the door and down at Mitch.

“I found a baby,” Mitch says and holds the kitten up high, just in case Matt thinks he means an actual baby, “On your wheel.”

“Oh shit,” Matt says with eyes wide, “Good thing you caught it.”

“I know it’s precious.” and Mitch looks down at the kitten, lifting it up to his face and staring deep in it’s judgemental eyes. He can’t help but grin when it reaches out with it’s little paw and presses it to his nose, like ‘stay away, don’t come any closer.’ but it doesn’t pull out it’s claws so Mitch is pretty sure the kitten loves him as much as he loves it.

 

******

 

“It probably has an owner,” Matt says, “we can’t just keep someone else’s kitten.”

“It’s not someone else’s kitten, it’s mine,” Mitch pouts. They’re back inside now, in the kitchen and it’s Matt’s turn to make breakfast so Mitch can cradle the kitten against his chest still. Matt suggested letting the kitten down but Mitch isn’t sure he wants something snack sized waddling around for Ashe to scoop up.

“We’re not keeping a cat here,” Matt says.

“You’re trying to keep my baby from me!” Mitch accuses.

“It’s… not your baby, you just found it!”

“I’m keeping it.”

“Mitch,” but Matt can act as stern as he wants, Mitch isn’t fighting this. But only because he’s already made up his mind. “It could be someone else's,” Matt tries again.

“Well when the roads are clear we’ll go to the vet and if she has a chip in her we’ll return her,” Mitch says, “but until then she’s ours.”

“We don’t… we don’t have cat food or litter or…”

“So putting her back outside in the snow is a better idea?” Mitch asks, “You’re a cat dad now Matt, you can’t escape your destiny.”

Matt rubs at his face.

“Remember I’m broken and need to be taken care of? Don’t you wanna give me what I want?” Mitch blinks his eyes at Matt, making sure to flutter his lashes for good measure.

Matt rolls his eyes, "not funny," he says. And Mitch just shrugs because he's not sure if he wanted it to be funny. But it does light something burning hot in his chest, like a righteousness. And maybe Matt doesn't deserve that but Mitch sort of feels like  _he_ does at least. Still not sure how to drop something that's already long gone.

He leaves Matt alone then to introduce his kitten to the house. He sings it a little song as he shows her the living room and tells her very clearly that she needs to stay away from the candles especially when they’re lit because she could get hurt. From the way she puffs out her chest and settles in his hands he’s sure she got the message and definitely won’t be breaking any rules.

It’s when he sets her down in front of Ashe that he gets a little nervous. He makes sure to keep a hand near Ashe’s head, and another near the floor to keep the kitten in one place. But it becomes clear pretty quickly Ashe is as much of a threat towards the kitten as he is to anything else, which is to say, not at all. First he takes a few steps back and tries to sniff the kitten without it getting to close but when he lowers his nose to the floor the kitten just wants to follow him and swat at his nose.

At the first touch of the kittens paw, Ashe pulls back in surprise, almost as if he’s offended but the kitten keeps waddling towards him and even circles his paw. Ashe looks at Mitch a little alarmed like ‘what did you find and why is it near me?’ It makes Mitch laugh just a little and he watches as slowly but surely the two of them get used to each other.

“He loves her,” Mitch announces when Matt walks into the living room with their food, “we have to keep her now.”

“So you decided she’s a girl?” Matt asks.

“Well,” Mitch shrugs, “she has a feminine energy.”

“You’re such a douche,” Matt laughs.

 

*******

 

The roads are cleared before the electricity comes back on, which is what Matt said would happen. But that’s fine because they have errands to run.

“It’s like a big happy family,” Mitch says when they pile into the truck, Ashe, kitten and all.

“Oh, definitely,” Matt says but he can pretend to be upset about this all he wants, there’s no way he doesn’t love this as much as Mitch does. He even let Mitch help shovel them out this morning, because he always gives Mitch what he wants with a smile on his face.

They stop by Hazel’s first. She lives in a town or so over in a small apartment block and even though Matt talked to her on the phone he still needs to make sure she’s not dying. Mitch thinks it’s a great idea but has to stay in the car with the animals as he watches Matt walk up to her second floor apartment and knock on the door.

He’s only in there a few minutes and when he comes back Mitch makes sure to ask if everything’s good.

“Yep,” Matt says, “She already has power back, and she says she’d love to have a cat, which is completely unrelated to anything going on right now,” he pointedly looks at the kitten still in Mitch’s hands, “but is a good thing to think about.”

“Nice try, but I earned this kitten fair and square.”

Matt shakes his head but just backs out of the parking lot.

The vet they go to next isn’t far away either and while it’s open, it doesn’t seem like they were expecting anybody today. The waiting room is completely empty and the receptionist looks up at them in alarm when the door closes behind them.

“Can I help you?” She asks.

“Yeah, we have a cat that we don’t know what to do with,” Matt says.

“She’s mine,” Mitch insists, and the receptionist just smiles at them.

He’s right, it is a girl and she has no chip. The vet says it’s not unlikely that either she was born to a stray or was simply cast out by previous owners. It makes Mitch sad and even Matt can’t pretend he wants to get rid of her anymore. The vet sets them up with everything they need and Mitch decides to name her Brownie.

“It’s cute, like the dessert.” Mitch says when Matt gives him a weird look.

“Okay,” Matt says slowly.

“What? It’s a good name,”

“It’s a good name,” The receptionist agrees as she fills out their forms on the computer in front of them.

“Thank you,” Mitch says and gestures towards her, “see, perfectly normal, everything’s cool and there’s no reason to look at me like that.”

“Sure,” but Matt doesn’t seem convinced.

 

*****

 

That night there’s still no power, Ashe is curled up on the couch with Brownie nested against his side, her tail curled around her as she sleeps softly. They look so cute in the light of the candles it makes Mitch’s heart hurt but Matt pulls his attention from them pretty aptly.

“Keep warm,” Matt mutters against Mitch’s lips as they kiss, his hands running up the back of Mitch’s shirt, “body heat and all that.”

“Mmhm,” Mitch mutters, completely unconcerned with whatever excuse Matt is coming up with. He doesn’t need excuses to make out with his boyfriend, will happily lay here for hours feelings the way Matt moves below him, lovely and hot.

And the thing is. Mitch’s body still works sometimes. Not all the time and not perfectly, but there’s still a buzzing feeling in his veins as Matt runs his hands down his body, groping him and biting at his lip softly. Because, well Matt very rarely asks for more than this and Mitch is pretty sure he’s not going to tonight either, but Matt’s body works, works very well and pretty often as much as he doesn’t want Mitch to notice. Which is lame, Matt shouldn’t deny himself just because Mitch can’t always get it up and he definitely shouldn’t deprive _Mitch_ , because there’s nothing hotter than watching Matt lose himself, fist wrapped around his cock.

“Hey,” Mitch says softly, “hey do you have lube down here?” he asks.

“Why?” Matt asks, “you want some?”

“Yeah,” Mitch says, “Where is it? I’ll go get it.”

“I can…”

“Bathroom?” Mitch asks.

There’s a few beats where Matt doesn’t respond like he wants to argue this but eventually he just says, “yeah, upstairs bedroom.”

Mitch pushes away from Matt and hurries out into the kitchen and up the stairs. The lube is in a drawer in the bathroom upstairs, where he had stumbled upon it a few days ago looking for candles. He should have grabbed it then but he wasn’t feeling particularly sexy or giving.

When he gets back down into the living room, Matt’s still laying in their blanket pile on the ground waiting for him. He smiles when he sees Mitch and Mitch smiles back throwing the lube towards Matt and then reaching behind himself to pull his shirt up and off.

“Body heat,” He says when he climbs back in with Matt, falling against him and picking up where they left off.

Matt gets hard pretty quick and Mitch squirms happily against him, kissing Matt harder and rubbing a finger along the space behind Matt’s ear that makes him shiver and fall apart.

“Wh… what’s the play here?” Matt asks, breathless and looking a little gone.

“Let me take care of it,” Mitch mutters, “And take your clothes off.”

“Yes sir,” Matt says and kisses him once more for good measure.

Mitch shimmies out of his sweatpants quickly so he can watch Matt as he strips. It’s like a fucking work of art and Mitch can’t help but run his hands along Matt’s bare back, his chest, down to the drawstring of his flannel pants.

“Yeah?” Matt asks.

“Yeah,” Mitch echoes and pulls on the bow to untie them and pushes them down, just enough that Matt’s hard cock is free. It’s almost beautiful, especially with the way the soft light around them illuminates it’s hard edges. “God,” Mitch groans, “fucking perfect” He says and then leans forward.

Matt lets out a breathless laugh as Mitch kisses his hip bone, “thanks,” he says.

“It’s your best feature,” Mitch says, looking up at Matt and rubbing his lips against the head of Matt’s cock.

“Fuck,” is all Matt can say to that.

MItch grins and places a wet kiss to hot skin in front of him, letting out a soft moan as he lets it fill his mouth. He takes Matt’s cock shallow, starting a steady and tight rhythm, meant more to get Matt wet than to get him off. All Matt can do in response is pet awkwardly at Mitch’s head like he wants to grab but is too nice, too polite to.

“You’re gorgeous,” Mitch says when he pulls off, his fist still wrapped around Matt’s cock, leaning into kiss him.

“Yeah,” Matt grunts out, “You should see yourself.”

Mitch lets out a soft laugh and kisses Matt again, “I want to try something,” He says.

“What?” Matt asks.

“I want to ride you.”

“What?” Matt pulls back again to stare at Mitch. It looks a little funny with how wild his eyes and hair still are but Mitch decides not to laugh at him because he also seems pretty serious about this.

“It’ll still feel good,” Mitch says, “I want you in me, please,”

“Are you sure?” Matt asks, “You don’t need to do this for me…”

“I know, idiot,” Mitch says and strokes Matt’s cock once just to watch his eyes flutter, “this is completely selfish, for my needs only.”

Matt groans, “yes, yeah, go for it, fuck.”

Mitch grins at him and grabs the lube.

This is the first time they’ve done this. Because even though sex isn’t the center of his life like it felt it was back before his concussion, they still have it, but they don’t do it like _this_. Sometimes Mitch gets hard, most of the time he doesn’t, but it’s not even about the orgasms. It took Matt a little bit of time to get that, to get that Mitch just feels good knowing he can be with Matt like that, be that close with him, that intimate with him.

So they’re here and as Mitch slides two fingers up and into himself, he’s still not hard but he still wants this more than he’s wanted most anything recently. He’s almost glad for it, glad that he can’t get it up, because this way he can really appreciate it, really feel the way Matt is staring at him like he’s the best thing in the world. It’s searing. Mitch is addicted to it.

He leans down and kisses Matt as he slides his fingers out and straddles Matt’s lap. Matt doesn’t even say anything just stares down at where Mitch is grabbing his cock and lining it up to his entrance. He seems shocked, overwhelmed, like he can’t believe he gets this and Mitch wants to eat it all up.

When the head pops in Mitch lets out a controlled breath, trying to roll his hips, slowly take more and more. It’s been so long since he’s had anything, anyone like this but it doesn’t hurt, not really, not when he’s so relaxed and his body feels so warm.

But that doesn’t mean Matt doesn’t feel big, doesn’t feel like a lot. It burns a hole in Mitch’s chest as he takes Matt further and further inside him and Mitch’s whole body is on fire when he finally takes all of Matt.

“Shit,” Matt mutters, “god, Mitch, you’re perfect.”

“Shut up, sap,” MItch says but he can’t help the fact that he’s breathless and panting, just as taken by the whole thing as Matt is.

It’s hard to find any sort of rhythm but he finally lands on a soft grind that feels good, in a weirdly deep and achy sort of way. He’s not familiar with the feeling, not really but he’s so quickly addicted to it he can’t stop. Maybe it’d feel better for Matt if he actually rode him, actually turned this into something faster, more like sex. But Matt’s not complaining. In fact, he seems to be doing the opposite. His fingers are pressing into Mitch’s thighs, hard like he’s clinging for dear life and his eyes keep opening and then shutting like he can’t stand to watch but can’t miss it either.

It devolves quicker than Mitch would like to admit, the grinding speeding up, getting desperate and still he can’t lift himself onto his knees. It feels too good. There’s a heat blooming in his abdomen and it’s spreading through his body. It’s a different heat then the arousal that’s been building in him steadily. This is an electric heat, a heat that dances along his nerves and makes his fingers twitch against Matt’s chest, antsy.

“Fuck,” Mitch says suddenly when something hits him like a punch to the chest, “Oh my god,” he doesn’t know what it was but he wants to do it again. “This feels so good, Matt, what the fuck.”

Matt doesn’t respond and Mitch is pretty sure he can’t. He has sweat beading along his hairline and his eyes are shut tight and Mitch gets a sudden stroke of fear.

“No,” Mitch says and presses his palm hard into Matt’s shoulder, “Do not cum, don’t you dare.”

“Fuck,” Matt says, forcing it out on a rough breath “easier said than done.”

“No, no just hold on for me, just hold on,” Mitch begs, “just hold on.”

Matt’s fingers tighten on his thighs but Mitch doesn’t care because that punch, that loss of air is hitting him over and over now. He feels it like it’s the last thing on earth and if Matt cums now, if Matt loses it Mitch may never forgive him. Because this feeling? This feeling is sex, this feeling is steady pleasure that washes everything else away. It’s cresting on something larger, something Mitch thought he lost years ago.

He can’t lose it now, he can’t lose it again.

“Come on Matt, come on,” Mitch mutters, more desperate than he’s ever been before “Don’t cum, don’t cum.”

Matt seems pained and Mitch almost feels bad for him. Almost. Whatever’s building in Mitch is slower than the orgasm ready to take Matt away. But he’s old, he can handle it, he can let Mitch take what he needs.

“Fuck,” Mitch whimpers and digs his nails in, “oh fuck Matt, Oh fuck,” and then his body is being wracked by intense, near constant waves of something beyond pleasure, something so deep inside of him it feels like it’s reverberating from his bones.

“Shit Mitch, oh my god,” and Matt’s coming too and he pulls Mitch down into his chest and holds him as they both ride it out. Mitch just shivering against his chest and letting out whimpering sounds.

“Oh my god,” is the last thing he hears Matt say.

 

******

 

When the power finally comes back on Mitch celebrates by turning all the lights on and letting Matt feed him eggs and pancakes.

“I promise to not tell Connor Brown you named your kitten after him.” Matt says placing a plate down in front of Mitch.

“I didn’t name her after Connor,” Mitch says, “I told you I named her after the dessert, you know, brownies, everyone loves brownies and everyone loves my cat it’s perfect.”

Matt’s still giving him a fond look and Mitch can’t help but give him a little lopsided smile back.

Despite how good breakfast is Mitch still feels nauseous after it and prays it’s not going to be a bad day. He was let off easy during the storm, only the normal ache and slight confusion but it was always going to come back he supposed. It’s easier to deal with though, because Matt goes down to the inn to make sure it’s still in working order after they had it shut down for the past few days because of the storm, and Mitch can be on his own and not worry about anyone pitying him too much.

Well Ashe does, but not the cat, Brownie doesn’t pity him at all. In fact in the face of him laying on the couch, hood pulled up and buried under blankets, she simply steps on his face and curls up in the space between the back of his neck and the couch. While Ashe lays on the ground next to him protectively Brownie starts kneading the back of his head with no care in the world.

Through the pain in his head he can’t help but smile about it, and eventually, he’s able to fall back into sleep.

When he wakes up it’s to the sound of Matt finally cleaning up his pile of candles from the coffee table. He doesn’t notice Mitch is awake at first, corralling the candles into easily picked up piles. It’s the perfect time for Mitch to take stock of him, the way one piece of hair is falling down in front of his face, the way his mouth is slightly parted open, and Mitch loves him.

“Hey,” Mitch says and reaches out.

Matt looks up and smiles when his eyes land on Mitch, “Hey sleepy,” he says.

“Come here,” Mitch mumbles,

“You and your baby are taking up the whole couch,” Matt points out.

“Don’t care, want you,”

Matt smiles and puts down the candles he was starting to pick up and walks around the coffee table to sit near Mitch’s legs and lean down, kissing him gently.

“Love you,” Mitch says.

Matt keeps smiling and gently rubs his thumb along Mitch’s cheek, kissing him again, “Love you too,” He says.

“And maybe,” Mitch pauses, “maybe I did name my cat after Connor Brown.”

“Well, maybe you should give him a call then.”

“Yeah, maybe.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are alwayssss appreciated still obviously. and you can send me an ask on tumblr if you wanna talk about it (please talk to me about fic please.)

**Author's Note:**

> Time Line  
> Dec. 2019 - Matt Martin is outed when some random guy posts a sex tape of them on Twitter.  
> Jan. 2020 - Matt Martin retires from the NHL under shady circumstances.  
> Sep. 2020 - Matt Martin moves to Grafton Vermont and buys the Inn  
> Oct. 2020 - Mitch Marner suffers massive concussion in hit by Max Domi  
> Dec. 2020 - Mitch Marner visits SickKids with Leafs teammates where he reveals to John Tavares that he's still experiencing memory problems.  
> March 2022 - Matt Martin adopts Ashe the Belgian Malinois  
> June 2023 - Mitch Marner announces retirement from the NHL a month after his 26th Birthday  
> July 2023 - Mitch goes to stay with Matt in Vermont.
> 
> I really hope you liked it! Comments and kudos always make me feel *really good* about the things I write and help motivate me to keep writing. Also I'll try to actually respond to them this time.  
> You can [follow me on tumblr](http://brandoncarlo.tumblr.com/) and talk to me there as well :)


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